


25 Days of Gundam Wing

by Noelleian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Christmas, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hanukkah, Holidays, Humor, M/M, One Word Prompts, Romance, Yaoi and Het Pairings, Yule, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 20,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/pseuds/Noelleian
Summary: A collection of holiday themed drabbles using one word prompts. A prompt for each of the 25 days of Christmas.Rating will change and characters/pairings will be added with the addition of new drabbles.





	1. Sweaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quatre is recovering in the hospital after being stabbed by Dorothy. He takes up knitting to keep boredom at bay. He’s absolutely terrible at it, but Trowa doesn’t have the heart to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy and happy holidays!! This is a repost of my work that I had orphaned last year with a few little tweaks here and there.
> 
> Hope you like! ^.^
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own so please don't sue.
> 
> Trowa/Quatre (if you squint), humor, fluff. Rated G. 
> 
> Prompt: Sweaters

 

Trowa sighed as he set yet another disfigured wool sweater aside. The thing was just godawful. Were those supposed to be stripes? They looked more like a chevron gone horribly awry.

Shaking his head, Trowa folded, or tried to fold the knitted monstrosity and placed it in a box along with the other four. Those were equally terrible.  
  
Ever since Quatre had been stabbed by Dorothy Catalonia during the battle of Libra, he’d been going stir crazy. The tiny blond boy was a type A personality. He always needed to be doing something. And languishing away in a hospital bed was not conducive to an active mind and body such as Quatre’s. He was practically climbing the walls after three days.  
  
Relena suggested, and Trowa wanted to throttle her for it now, Quatre take up a hobby, such as knitting, to keep himself busy while he recovered. She’d gone out the next day and purchased dozens of rolls of yarn, a pair of knitting needles, and several patterns. She’d spent the rest of the day showing him the basics from the most common types of stitches to casting on and off.  
  
Quatre took to it like a lifeline and whenever Trowa visited him, he’d find the blond in deep concentration, frown lines between his eyes. His little pink tongue poked out between his teeth as his knitting needles clacked away at some brightly colored endeavor.  
  
He apparently had no sense of color coordination because he would combine the most clashing, migraine-inducing hues.  
  
Trowa would normally have no problem with this little obsession of his, except that Quatre decided to start knitting sweaters. Rather, they were ugly, horrific abominations that dared to call themselves sweaters. And Trowa was the unfortunate recipient of these garish gifts.  
  
They came to him in boxes of cheerily wrapped paper and by the fifth time the delivery guy showed up on his doorstep, Trowa just wanted to slam the door in his face.  
  
This morning it seemed Quatre had really outdone himself. Really, was he doing this on purpose? How could someone so brilliant make something so appalling?  
  
Trowa picked the offensive thing up again and glared at it. It was so misshapen, it could hardly pass for human apparel. One sleeve was ridiculously longer than the other. Honestly, whose arm is that long? The midsection was extremely short. Trowa wagered if he put it on, the ragged hem would rest about four inches above his navel. Not that he was going to put it on. He wouldn’t be caught dead in any of these hideous eyesores. And what the hell was even supposed to be on the front? A reindeer?  
  
It was a brown blob, somewhat centered between its sleeves, with black squiggly lines branching out the top, and white, black, and red spots that he assumed were the eyes and nose. He snorted. Poor Rudolph just couldn’t catch a break.  
  
His vid phone suddenly beeped and he reached over to flick the switch, silently groaning Quatre’s bright eyes grinned sunnily at him. Now it was time pretend he loved his newest gift and that was getting more difficult as the days wore on.  
  
“Morning, Trowa! Did you get my gift?”  
  
“Er…yes. Thank you.”  
  
The blond beamed. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow! I have another surprise for you. I’ll see you then,” he chirped, sounding eerily like a songbird and then the screen went dark as he cut the connection.  
  
_That does it. I’m telling him tomorrow. Those big sad eyes are not going to get to me. This is for the good of all humanity._


	2. Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Christmas break and Duo is appalled to learn Heero has never taken a vacation in his life. He is dead set on changing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heero/Duo
> 
> Fluff, humor. Rated G.
> 
> Prompt: Vacation

“Aaahhh!” Duo leaned back in his lounger and wriggled his bare toes into the warm sand. The sounds of ocean waves and squawking seagulls were like music to his ears. He tipped his head back and basked in the sun’s rays, shades perched on his nose. _This is the life!_ **  
**

“This is the life, innit Hee-man?”  
  
The click-clacking of fingers on keyboard answered him. Duo sat up and peered over the top of his sunglasses.  
  
“Are you serious?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
_Click-clack, click-clack._  
  
“Heero.”  
  
_Click-clack, click-clack._  
  
_“Heero!”_  
  
The dark haired boy finally raised his head. He looked adorkably charming with swaths of zinc oxide under his eyes and down the length of his nose. The bleary-eyed clueless expression was so precious, Duo wanted to squeal in the most undignified manner. “What?”  
  
“Dude. It’s called a vacation. A vacation specifically means to not work.”  
  
A pause, and then _click-clack, clickity-clack_. “For you, maybe.”  
  
“Uh…no. For everyone.” Duo watched him for another moment, then reached over and snatched the laptop out of his hands. Leaping up, he ran down the sandy beach and into the sea until the waves reached his knees. He held it threateningly over his head.  
  
Heero was only a beat behind him. “Duo, don’t! Don’t even think about it!”  
  
Of course Duo wouldn’t. He valued his life, but the threat did have the desired effect. “Okay, I won’t. On one condition. You put this thing away for the day. You can have it back tonight. Whatever it is, it can wait.”  
  
Heero sighed, a look of utter dejection on his face. It occurred to Duo then that maybe relaxation wasn’t suitable for someone like Heero. He needed to be active, occupied. Duo just had to figure out how to redirect that need towards something more fitting of a vacation. He waded back to shore, holding the computer against his chest.  
  
“Alright, I have an idea. Let’s go do something fun.”  
  
Heero’s eyes narrowed. “Define fun.”  
  
“There’s an incredible underwater cave system about thirty minutes away. I know a great place where we can rent scuba gear.”

 

*******

  
  
_Four hours later…_

They sat on the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking the Wakulla Springs, their scuba tanks discarded nearby. They’d spent the afternoon exploring the expansive sinks and passages, admiring the breathtaking beauty of the limestone landscape. Sun filtered through various cracks in the rocks, casting ethereal rays of light into the water.  
  
They sat shoulder to shoulder and tried to interpret shapes out of the calcium deposits that had been growing along the moist surfaces of the structure for thousands of years, the same way one would look for images among the clouds.  
  
Heero seemed to completely forget about his laptop. His normally frowning blue eyes were wide with wonder, captivated by his surroundings. Duo smiled at him and wrapped an arm around him.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Heero.”


	3. Ski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Duo buys a ski resort, he invites the boys up for a holiday in the mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairings (aside from a mention of past Duo/Hilde). 
> 
> Fluff. Rated G.
> 
> Prompt: Ski

December in the Colorado Rockies was a magical time. The quaint mountain communities were decorated to the nines with festive holiday displays. Vacationers traveled all over the world to get a glimpse of the breathtaking snow-capped peaks, charming towns, and the enchanting snowfalls. The ski resorts were booked solid for the winter. People from all walks of life, from the experienced winter sports fanatic to the fresh-faced novice, were donning warm parkas and slapping on skis and snowboards to get a taste of the fresh powder.

One such ski resort was also booked for the season, but not this weekend. This weekend was different, special. Duo Maxwell purchased the resort the previous summer and he’d been waiting months to close it down so that he and his boys could have a weekend to themselves. The loss of revenue would be worth the quality time he would gain with the four most important people in his life.  
  
Duo sent all but the most necessary staff home for the weekend. He would need some workers to stick around and keep the nuts and bolts of the place running. A building maintenance engineer, a cook, someone to work the ski lift, and medical personnel in case of accident, or illness.  
  
The lobby was decked out with long swaths of lighted garland and wreaths topped with big red bows. A twenty foot blue spruce stood in front of the gigantic arched windows. It took over a thousand strands of twinkling lights, several hundred colorful ornaments, and twenty employees to get the tree in its current gala state.  
  
A cozy lounge and sitting area offset the lobby. There was a large bar made from the same kind of logs that made up the rest of the resort’s structure and gave the place a warm and rustic ambiance. A large stone fireplace stood in the corner, a fire already crackling away. Overstuffed leather sofas and bear skin rugs provided a masculine touch. Strategically placed Mohave and Navajo artifacts embraced the rich culture of the area.  
  
Outside, it was quiet, peaceful. The serenity only broken by the occasional cries of coyotes and other wildlife. The ground was blanketed in three feet of fresh dump. No need to turn on the machines. Mother Nature had been good to them so far this year. The powder was soft and new, perfect for the slopes.  
  
Duo was tending the fire when he heard the _woosh_ of the entrance doors open and he turned just in time to see snow swirling in followed by the four best friends he’d ever had. Tamping down on his excitement, he placed the tongs back on the rack that stood on the hearth, brushed his hands off, and ran to greet them.  
  
They seemed as happy to see him as he did them. He hugged them all and welcomed them, calling for a few employees to take their bags up to their rooms. They hung their coats in the lobby’s coat room, pulling off mittens, scarves, hats, and slushy boots.  
  
“Duo, this is absolutely beautiful! Such a beautiful place.” Quatre was starry-eyed, looking around in fascination.  
  
“This is really nice, Duo.” Trowa agreed.  
  
“Thanks, guys. It’s not too shabby if I do say so myself,” Duo winked, beaming with pride.

“You’ve done well for yourself, Maxwell. I’m impressed.”

Duo cocked his head, instantly playful. “Why, Wufei. Never thought I’d hear you sing my praises,” he quipped.  
  
Wufei scoffed. "Hardly. I never expected you to head up a ski resort is all. You were rather fond of that junkyard once upon a time.”  
  
“Yeah, well. After Hilde left and took everything _including_ the kitchen sink, I decided I needed a new direction.” He linked his arm through Wufei’s and all but dragged him into the lounge. “C’mon. I’ll give ya the tour. Free of charge.”  
  
They spent the evening in front of the fire, chatting about life, love, and career paths while they nursed German beer and spiced cider. A rather intense round of chess between Trowa and Heero became a focal point of playful contention with Duo and Quatre taking sides, and Wufei standing as the neutral tie breaker and referee. Later that night, they retired to their rooms to sleep and rest up for an action-packed day of skiing.  
  
The following morning, after an incredible breakfast of Eggs Benedict, they set off for the alpine slopes. They rode the lifts up to the first hill, their balaclavas protecting their faces from the wind, ski-strapped feet swinging back and forth as the lift climbed higher and higher.  
  
At the top, they stood together, checking their poles, slipping on gloves, and pulling their goggles over their eyes.  
  
“Alright, ladies. Prepare to be amazed,” Duo announced as he stood at the edge and crouched. He angled his poles behind him and tipped his skis over the lip, then he was off down the mountain, yodeling the entire way.  
  
They spent the rest of the afternoon skirting the multiple steep inclines, showing off daring maneuvers, and riding the rush of adrenaline. When the sun went down, they headed back to the lodge, exhausted, cold, but bright-eyed and invigorated. They enjoyed a rib-sticking chili supper with homemade biscuits and sipped hot cocktails while they warmed their chilled skin by the fire. Duo initiated a game of charades that became nothing but a senseless free-for-all by the end of the night thanks the generous consumption of spirits.  
  
In the morning, they would leave, back to their own lives and Duo would open the lodge back up to the public. His heart ached at the thought of saying goodbye, but they promised they would return to the lodge next December. Duo’s bittersweet melancholy eased and after feeding them a hearty breakfast, he sent them on their way. He looked forward to doing this again next year. But until then, he had a business to run. He flipped his ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’ and welcomed the influx of excited guests with his usual charm and candor.


	4. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quatre bakes Christmas cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre. 
> 
> Fluff, humor, bad puns, yaoi. Rated T+. 
> 
> Prompt: Cookies.

Quatre pulled the third baking sheet full of sugar cookies out of the oven, inhaling the sweet scent of butter, sugar, and flour that wafted up from the fresh baked pastries.

_Oh yeah, that’s good stuff!_

The cookies were cut into a variety of holiday shapes. The Christmas trees, stockings, Santas, snowmen, wreaths, and bells would soon be frosted in bright hues of red, green, blue, pink, and white, and then decorated with a variety of toppings. The counter tops were littered with a ridiculous abundance of sprinkles, colored sugars, and a vast assortment of tiny candies.  
  
Trowa arrived a short time later, catching the delicious scent of sugar cookies and frosting before he even opened the front door. His belly churned with a little trepidation. Quatre baking could only mean one of two things: He was upset, or he’d channeled his inner Betty Crocker in anticipation of the upcoming holiday season. Trowa sent up a silent prayer in the hopes that it was the latter.

He crossed the living room and walked into the kitchen to see Quatre standing with his back to him, humming an off tune version of Jingle Bells. Racks filled with yummy goodies stood beside him as he transferred the newest batch with a rubber spatula. A frilly apron was tied around his waist, accentuating his round bottom.

Speaking of yummy goodies.  
  
Stealthy as a cat, he crept up behind his petite lover. So immersed in his culinary undertaking, Quatre never heard him. He jumped and yelped when strong arms closed around him and pulled him against a solid chest.  
  
“Trowa! You have to stop sneaking up on me like that. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”  
  
“Sorry.” He turned his lover around in his arms and chuckled at the swaths of colorful frosting that streaked the blond’s face, across his nose, forehead, and chin. His cheeks were pinked from the heat of the kitchen and his eyes twinkled with the spirit of the season. He looked positively delectable. “I thought I smelled something delicious in here. I thought it was the cookies, but -” Trowa sniffed his love’s neck, “Nope, it’s you. I see you’ve been sampling the goods.”  
  
“Oh, stop.” Quatre swatted him lightly. Trowa buried his face into the creamy skin of his neck and pressed soft kisses into the flesh. “Mmm, on second thought, don’t - don’t stop…”  
  
Quatre wrapped his arms around his neck, curling his fingers into the silky brown hair. Trowa’s hands slid down and closed around the backs of his thighs, lifting him up to sit on the counter. He maneuvered himself between his lover’s legs and kissed his neck and jaw, each caress of his lips moving farther up until he reached Quatre’s mouth. They made out heatedly for several minutes, Trowa pulling on the knot that held Quatre’s apron in place.  
  
“Ah, Trowa,” the blond whimpered.  
  
Trowa nuzzled him and growled, “Quatre. I want your cookies.”  
  
He moaned, tipping his head back in wanton surrender. “Oh, Trowa, you can have my cookies whenever and however you want. My cookies are all yours.”  
  
Trowa pulled back, picked up a sugar cookie from the cooling rack, and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Mmm- _mmm_ …yeah. God, I love your cookies. Keep up the good work.”

He turned on his heel and traipsed out of the kitchen leaving Quatre sitting on the counter, flushed and flustered. He stared at his boyfriend’s retreating back, then glanced down at his tented trousers.  
  
"Damn it, Trowa! I hate it when you do that!”


	5. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Christmas Eve and Heero and Quatre are stranded after Heero becomes wounded. They seek shelter in an abandoned warehouse to hide from the enemy and escape the brutal Siberian winter while they wait for rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heero/Quatre (friendship, bros spooning to keep warm). Implied Trowa/Quatre. 
> 
> Fluff, slight humor, drama. Warning for gunshot, wound cauterization, and blood. 
> 
> Rated T+

Explosions rocked the Siberian town of Alexeyevka as Heero and Quatre detonated the bombs they’d planted in the OZ base nearby. The city was already war-torn after the militant organization’s invasion. The residents took up arms in an attempt to drive the occupiers out, but they’d failed and many were killed. Those who survived fled to the countryside and sought safety in the surrounding towns and villages.  **  
**

OZ had seized an old civilian automobile plant. They’d converted the main building into a base of operations and the large plant was being used to build missiles. The site was chosen due to the secluded location which gave them a false sense of security.

They hadn’t counted on the Gundam Pilots finding them. Heero had successfully hacked into OZ’s database using a remotely hijacked server and discovered the base. He recruited Quatre who’d been free of missions at the time and wasn’t too far away. 

They stashed Wing and Sandrock near the city of Belgorod and hiked through the woodlands along a winding river until they reached the town. They wore camouflage in colors of white and pale gray to blend in with the snowy wooded landscape. Underneath were layers of wool to ward off the freezing temperatures.

Once they reached the base, they took out the two guards standing post, dragging the bodies into a ravine behind the plant. There, they stripped off their camouflage and replaced them with the guards’ uniforms. Using their confiscated rifles, the pilots infiltrated the complex and planted the bombs they carried in their packs.

Unfortunately, their escape was thwarted and a brief firefight ensued.   
  
Quatre took out the remaining soldiers in the plant with his bullpup rifle and helped up a wounded Heero who’d been grazed in the thigh. By the time they got outside, they realized the alarms had been tripped and more OZ troops were on the way. They veered off into the forest in the hopes of losing their pursuers.   
  
Heero’s injured leg was losing blood quickly. Thankfully, it hadn’t nicked his artery, but the flesh wound was bleeding profusely and Quatre knew he had to get his friend to safety as soon as possible.

It was getting dark, the white winter sky turning deep shades of gray, orange, and pink. They would need shelter away from the frigid winds if they hoped to survive the night. Quatre gave the injury a crude dressing that would have to do until they could get to a safe shelter. 

They slowly, but steadily made their way through the wooded terrain until they reached the abandoned remnants of a partially destroyed village. There was an old, dilapidated, but still standing warehouse. The structure’s concrete blocks were crumbling in parts and it appeared to have been hit by a bomb at some point, but it would have to suffice for the night.   
  
Quatre got Heero inside and carefully sat him in a corner in the innermost part of the warehouse, away from the howling winds. Then he went outside and checked the perimeter of the village to be sure there wasn’t anyone watching, or skulking about. He booby trapped every possible entry into the building with trip wire and small explosives and went back inside to tend to his partner.   
  
He found Heero right where he’d left him, holding a rag over the now sluggishly bleeding wound. Quatre grabbed his pack and fished out the first aid kit and stood up to remove his belt. Wrapping it around the injured man’s thigh, a few inches above the bullet hole, he pulled the leather tight to staunch the flow of blood. 

He retrieved a bottle of alcohol out of his bag and poured it over the injury, using a strip of cloth to wipe away any dirt and shrapnel. He fixed up a small pallet with sticks and twigs that had been strewn about and placed his thermal blanket over it. Heero would need to rest and replenish his blood supply. If they were discovered, his chances of getting away from OZ was minimal while in his weakened state.   
  
Quatre left his friend dozing on the pallet and went outside to find water to drink and wood to build a fire. There was a partially frozen river nearby, but the water flowed freely allowing him to fill two bottles. He found a hefty armful of fallen tree branches that he prayed would burn and keep them warm.    
  
He brought the bundle of sticks and bottles of water back to the building, quickly dug a shallow trench in the dirt floor, and arranged the branches into a pile. He groped around in his pack for some matches and tore a random strip of cloth from his uniformed slacks. He dipped one end of the strip into the alcohol and lit it with the match. Then he dropped the burning scrap of fabric onto the pile of sticks and within minutes, a warm fire was crackling away.  
  
Quatre pulled out his pocket knife and held it over the flames, killing any bacteria that might be living on the metal surface. Satisfied that it was clean, he crawled to the sleeping man and woke him.   
  
“Heero,” the blond whispered, careful not to startle the knee-jerk pilot. He really didn’t feel like having another gun in his face tonight. “Heero, I need you to wake up for a few minutes so I can cauterize your wound. I got some water, too. You need to stay hydrated.”  
  
Heero groaned, cracking lethargic eyelids open, dark blue eyes shimmering in the firelight. He mumbled tiredly, “So do you.”  
  
Quatre held up the two bottles. “I got one for me and one for you. I’ll head back down to the river in the morning before the sun comes up to get some more. It’s not far. The water is clean. Here.”   
  
He handed one bottle to Heero and helped him sit up. Heero thirstily chugged about half the bottle before setting it aside. Quatre pressed a cloth against his lips. “I’d give you a bullet to bite, but we might need those,” he joked.  

Heero snorted and opened his mouth to bite down on it, giving the other pilot a decisive nod to let him know he was ready. Quatre pressed the searing knife blade against the oozing hole, his face twisting in sympathy when Heero gritted his teeth around the cloth, breathing heavily through his nostrils as his flesh sizzled and smoked.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled.   
  
Once the wound was sealed, the skin around it blackened, Quatre pulled the knife away and held it over the fire to sterilize it again. He flipped the switch closed, setting it aside, and pulled Heero’s thermal blanket out of his bag. “This should keep you warm. You need as much rest as you can get. I’ll keep watch.”

Heero shook his head and murmured, “No need. Come here.” He held one end of the blanket up. “You need to stay warm, too. It won’t do to have you coming down with hypothermia and Trowa would skin my hide if you froze to death,” he rasped, a hint of amusement in the curve of his mouth.   
  
Quatre smiled sheepishly and crawled under the blanket, laying on his side with his back against Heero’s chest. Heero wrapped the blanket and his arm around him and settled in behind him, his face pressed into the dirty blond hair.

Quatre endured the not-so-subtle shifting, wondering how much sleep either of them were going to get. “Still hurts?”

“It’s hard to get comfortable, sorry.”

“It’s alright. I can give you an aspirin. Probably won’t do much good, though.”

“It won’t. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Quatre hummed in relative agreement and closed his eyes, the whistle of the frigid wind blowing against the building lulling him into a light doze. His back was nice and toasty thanks to Heero’s body heat and he absurdly wished for another Heero to warm the front of his body. His thoughts began to slip together in ways that would have made little sense if he were fully awake.

He didn’t know where the sudden thought came from, but he jolted awake a moment later when realization struck him like a bucket of ice water over his head. “Hey, it’s Christmas,” he announced, glancing at his watch.  
  
"Not the best way to spend it, is it?”  
  
Quatre shrugged as well as he could while lying on his side. “Well, depends on how you look at it, I guess.” He was rather enjoying the cuddles, even if it was mostly to keep warm.  
  
“You’re not the one with a hole in your leg, though.”   
  
Quatre chuckled. “I guess Duo can’t brag about being the only man who shot the great Heero Yuy anymore.”  
  
“Now that definitely puts me in the Christmas spirit.”


	6. Hanukkah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the first day of Hanukkah and Duo wants to make sure the holiday gets some love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairings. 
> 
> Humor, fluff, friendship.
> 
> Rated: G.

Agent Chang Wufei grumbled tiredly as he shuffled to the coffee pot located in the break room of Preventers Headquarters. Eyes half open under the godawful florescent lighting, he bitched to no one in particular about the outrageous hour Une expected them to report to work. Honestly, did that woman ever sleep?

So distracted by his own groggy woes, he almost missed the fussing braided man a few feet away, singing, “Chanukah, oh, Chanukah”. 

Wufei raised a questioning brow. _Is that Yiddish?_

Duo’s excitably hopping body suddenly moved to the side and Wufei spotted a Menorah sitting in the middle of the lunch table, a candle lighting one branch. A blue and white banner showcasing the Star of David was draped across the wall above the kitchenette’s sink, between two rows of cabinets, with Happy Chanukah written in blue.

“Maxwell, what the hell are you doing?”

Duo turned, gracing him with a smile far too bright for this hour of the day. “Oh, good morning, Fei-Ray. It’s the first day of Hanukkah.” He pointed at the lit candle. “This is a Menorah. You light one ca -”

Wufei held up a hand. “Yes, I know what Hanukkah is, Maxwell. Aren’t you Catholic?”

Duo shrugged. “Meh. You could say I’m agnostic, but whatever.”

“Uh huh. So why are you celebrating a Jewish holiday?”

Duo’s expression resembled that of a little boy who’d just been told his dad accidentally ran over his puppy. “Why not?”

Wufei stared back, trying to decide if it was worth the debate, then he waved his hand and turned away. “Whatever. Suit yourself.”

“Wufei?”

He paused, praying to every god he could think of that he wouldn’t regret this. “What?”

Duo raised his arm, holding up a closed fist. “Open your hand.”

Wufei eyed him warily. “Why?”

Duo’s eyes rolled back into his head. “Oh, jeez. Just do it, would ya?“

Reluctantly, he held his hand out, palm up, and watched the unpredictable jokester closely for any sign of foul play.

"God, you’re paranoid.” Duo shook his head and dropped what looked like a top into his hand. It was four-sided and made of wood. Each side was hand-painted with blue letters, written in the Hebrew alphabet.

Wufei glanced down at his hand, then back up at Duo whose eyes sparkled with pride. “It’s a Dreidel. Made it myself. Happy Hanukkah, Fei.” He spun on his heel and went back to the candelabrum, singing Latke'le Latke'le at the top of his lungs.

Wufei observed him a moment as he danced around the room, prompting cheerful grins and laughter from the other Preventers. The man who seemed to exist solely to be a thorn in his side and thrived on driving him up the wall was embracing the long sacred customs of another culture as if they were his own. Even Wuei’s bitter heart couldn’t help but feel a little warmed by the gesture.

He smiled and whispered, “Happy Hanukkah, Maxwell,” and left the room, taking his coffee to his desk. Perhaps he could give the idiot a break. At least for today.


	7. Wassailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo finally discovers what “Wassailing” means and recruits their ragtag group of friends to partake in this traditional custom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: None.
> 
> Humor.
> 
> Rated: T.

_“Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green. Here we come a-wand'ring so fair to be seen…”_

“What the hell does "a-wassailing” even mean?“ Duo stared at the singing quartet of carolers as he and Quatre strolled through Sanq’s quaint shopping district. 

Christmas fever had hit like an epidemic and the entire kingdom looked as if Santa Claus barfed all over it. Twinkle lights were wound around absolutely everything that stood still and even some things that didn’t. Pine and holly evergreens hung over every door and window, wrapped around every post, hung from every eave and awning. Men in Santa costumes stood on every corner ringing old fashioned bells, their ho-ho-ho’s echoing off the buildings while passersby dropped coins into the little buckets at their feet.

In the center of town was a giant tree, decked to the nines with lights, tinsel and giant silver and gold ornaments. A Winter Wonderland play area was designated for children, bordered with tall candy canes. Cotton covered the ground in giant mounds, masquerading as snow. The village children ran around screaming and shouting excitedly, climbing up onto plastic play structures, and flying down big red slides. 

At one end, another Santa perched on an ornate golden throne. Little ones were lined up as far as the eye could see for the opportunity to sit on his knee and tell him what they wanted for Christmas. Women dressed as elves ushered them to Santa’s lap, took a photo, and then brought them back to their mothers after handing them a candy cane which they clutched in mitten’d hands. Parents gathered around snapping pictures of their little Billys and Sallys, coaching them from the sidelines. "Sit still!” “Stop crying!” “Smile!”

Duo, who usually loved this time of year, seemed uncharacteristically glum, so Quatre decided to make an effort to cheer his friend up. He suggested a walk through town to take in the sights followed by lunch at one of the cafes.

“Well, it has two meanings actually. In this context, it means to carol. You know, walk around singing Christmas carols.”

“So then why the hell don’t they just say "caroling”? Here we come a-caroling…has a better ring to it and then people aren’t asking what it means all the time.“

The blond sighed, exasperated. "I don’t know, Duo. I didn’t write the song.”

“Hmmm. So what’s the other meaning?”

“Wassailing also refers to an old English custom of visiting apple orchards and singing to the trees to promote a good harvest.”

He threw his head back and cackled. “Are you serious?”

“Duo,” Quatre admonished gently. “Yes, I’m serious. It was a very common practice a long time ago. People were much more superstitious back then.”

“I guess in that case, "wassailing” sounds better than, “I’m singing to the trees so they won’t be mad at me and give me bad apples.”

“Yes, I suppose it does,” Quatre chuckled.

“How the hell do you know all this crap anyway?”

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I have an eidetic memory. My tutors were always pumping me full of information. I remember everything I read, so all that stuff, trivial, or not, sticks with me.”

Duo’s eyes widened. “Wow, really? That’s interesting, but somehow not surprising.”

They veered off into a coffee shop and ordered couple of sugary coffees topped with dollops of whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate and caramel.

“Hey, Quat. You think you can help me get everyone together tonight?”

“Uh, sure. Why?”

“‘Cause you’re really good at that sort of thing.”

“No, I mean, why do you want to get everyone together?”

Duo’s eyes twinkled, though Quatre couldn't be sure if it was just the Christmas lights strung through the shop’s rafters, or if it was because his brain was formulating some harebrained idea. 

“I have an idea.”

Quatre groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Allah, I hope this isn’t something I’m going to regret.”

“Now, when have you ever regretted implementing my ideas?”

Quatre’s head shot up, leveling a narrow-eyed gaze on his friend. “Oh, let’s see…” He stuck his gloved index finger into the air. “What about the time I helped you play that Halloween prank on Wufei that nearly got us both thrown off that bridge?” He uncurled his middle finger. “Or how about the time you talked me into skinny dipping in Salt Lake City and we were arrested for Public Indecency? Or, the time -”

“Okay! Okay, so…maybe not all my ideas are well thought out, but…I _promise_ you this is not one of them. Okay?”

Quatre stared at him suspiciously, scowling at Duo’s guileless expression.

“Pleeeaaase?”

“Oh, alright. But if this goes badly, I’m never helping you again.”

“Fair enough.”

 

***

 

“You’d better have a damn good reason for bringing me out here in this cold, Maxwell.” Wufei was huddled on a corner bench in the park where Duo and Quatre had gathered their friends and acquaintances. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself and glowered at Treize who stood ten feet away, glaring right back. 

“Well, okay guys,” Quatre began cheerfully, clapping his hands to get their wandering attention. “We’re going to do something fun. We’re all going to go a-wass - uh, we’re going to go Christmas caroling,” he informed them, grinning from ear to ear. Duo, who stood beside him, mirrored his hopeful enthusiasm.

Silence. 

Somewhere, a cricket chirped. Which should have been impossible considering it was winter. Quatre wondered if it was an omen of some kind.

”…What?“ Une, who’d appeared to be sleeping on a nearby bench only moments ago, lifted her head up and glowered at them with bleary, baleful eyes. "You woke me up for _this?_ ”

“Oh, c'mon, guys! It’ll be fun!” Duo clapped his hands and jumped on the balls of his feet, trying to wrangle some good cheer from the grumbling group.

Zechs sniffed, looking down the long, regal slope of his nose. “I do not see the humor in this.”

Quatre tried a different tactic. “Alright, look. I think it’s time we all settled our differences. We should be setting a shining example of burying the hatchet for the sake of peace. What better way than to share the spirit of Christmas with the people of Sanq?”

Treize sneered, “I don’t think getting stabbed qualifies as a 'difference’,” he hissed, his fingers curling in a gesture of air quotes.

Wufei groaned, throwing up his hands in frustration. "It was three years ago! Catalonia stabbed Winner! Do you hear _him_ complaining?”

Dorothy jerked upright, affronted and pointed an accusing finger at Quatre. “He blew up a colony!”

Quatre turned on her. “Hey! It was evacuated.  _Excuuuse_ me for being a little upset about my own colony killing my father right in front of me.”

The group dissolved into a senseless free-for-all of hollering and finger-pointing. Duo watched helplessly, his heart plummeting in his chest. 

Heero, who was silently watching all of this, finally snapped. “Everybody, shut the fuck _up!”_

Shocked silence settled upon the bickering group.

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. Nothing is going to change that and none of us is better than the other. I don’t care what hang-ups any of you are still harboring. For the sake of this evening, we’re all going to suck it up, and go sing some fucking Christmas carols and we’re going to fucking _smile_ and enjoy it. Are we clear?”

Mollified by the once Perfect Soldier’s signature death glare, they shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. Heero’s expression darkened even more which prompted them to nod their heads and petulantly mumble affirmations.

“Good. Now, let’s put on our best happy faces and go wassail, or whatever the fuck it’s called. _Move_ it, people!”


	8. Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero comes home from work on Christmas Eve to find women’s pantyhose hanging from the mantle. He’d been living with Duo for a few years now and he was used to his boyfriend’s shenanigans, but this? This was just a whole new level of weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heero/Duo
> 
> Fluff, Humor, Suggestive sexual situations.
> 
> Rated: M.

Heero stood in front of the fireplace, staring at the mantle in confusion. He briefly wondered if he’d stepped into the wrong house, though the five by seven photograph of Duo and himself in Cancun was enough to convince him he was in the right place.

“Then what the hell is this?”

A pair of women’s thigh highs hung from the stocking hangers instead of the usual red velvet and poofy white cotton ones he was used to seeing at Christmastime. Across the reinforced hems at the top of the stockings, their names were written with glue and sprinkled with green and red glitter. It didn’t take a genius to know that the swooping handwriting was Duo’s.

“Uh…Duo?”

A moment later, the braided man came strolling into the living room donned in a red Santa hat with a white puff ball dangling from the tip.

“Ah, Heero! Merry Christmas! How was your day?” Duo pranced merrily over to his boyfriend and helped slide his jacket off his shoulders.

“What is that?” He asked, pointing at the lewd display of pantyhose hanging from the mantle.

“Hm? Oh. Those are stockings.”

“Those are women’s lingerie.”

“Technically, yes, but they’re also stockings.”

“Duo, why are there women’s undergarments in our house?”

“Okay, hear me out. I was trying to decorate the house for Christmas before you got home. I looked for stockings at the store, but they were all sold out. Hilde loaned me these.”

“Why would Hilde give you pantyhose?”

“She’s nice? Look, they’ve never been worn, so don’t worry about that. And besides, this is what people used to do a long time ago before they started marketing the Christmas stockings people use now.”

“People hung underwear over their fireplace.”

“Well…yeah. Socks anyway. For the same reason we hang stockings. Santa would leave gifts in them.”

Heero side-eyed his boyfriend. “Duo, we have socks.”

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”

Heero shook his head. “I don’t want pantyhose hanging from my mantle.”

“Oh, come on, Heero. Don’t be a spoil sport. Look, I even wrote our names on them.” Duo walked over to the fireplace and gestured towards the glittery epitaphs in a way that reminded Heero of a game show spokes model.

“Somehow that makes this ten times creepier.”

Duo rolled his eyes. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

Heero turned away. “Whatever. Do what you want, but once "Santa” comes, I want those gone. Burn them, or something, I don’t care.“

"You got it, babe.”

 

*******

 

Christmas morning came and went. The “stockings” were filled with goodies, but once they’d emptied them, Duo made good on his promise and took them down. Heero breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God that embarrassing fiasco was over.

After a quiet post-Christmas dinner, he lounged in an easy chair with a Tolken novel opened on his chest, contentedly dozing.

“Oh, _Heeeee_ -chan…”

He jerked out of his snooze and turned his head towards the hallway. The house was dark but the bedroom light was on, casting a yellow glow into the living room. 

_Hmmm…_

Reaching the hallway, he froze mid step at the sight of his lover, hair down and completely naked, but for the pair of thigh highs. The black Lycra hugged his long, strong legs as he stood with his hip cocked and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“I have one more gift for you, baby.”


	9. Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wufei attends a gathering in the Himalayas to commemorate the lost Long Clan. Treize shows up unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Treize/Wufei (mention of past Wufei/Meiran).
> 
> Drama, humor, fluff(ish) kind of…sorta. Idk. 
> 
> Rated T+-M (nothing explicit).
> 
> Prompt: Coat.
> 
> Warnings: Past underage.

Four thousand feet up into the mountains, a few hundred people had gathered in memory of what was once the most powerful and prestigious Clan in all of Asia. Very few descendants had survived the exile and subsequent genocide of the Clan’s people. The few that did gathered together with their families on the Tibetan side of the Himalayas once a year, despite the Chinese government’s disdain. Others, though not descendants, also attended the memorial service in solidarity.

Wufei stood with his head bowed, remembering the last words his wife had said to him before she was killed. Killed defending their home. Killed protecting him.

_Weak! You’re weak. You are not fit for the title of heir because you are not willing to fight for what is yours!_

“You were right, Nataku. I wasn’t strong enough. I hid behind my shield of pacifism. Preaching diplomacy, but in truth, I was frightened. I failed you. I failed everyone,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill. He had not yet earned the right to cry.

"Still in the habit of talking to yourself, I see.”

The slow, lazy drawl carried along the cold wind and wrapped around him like a vice. It seeped through his pores and coated his bones in icy dread, though he ignored the flare of heat from within, ignited by emotions and passion he was still unable to find words for even after all these years. He turned, slowly, praying to deities he didn’t even believe in that the voice was only a figment of his imagination.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake. Am I a glutton for punishment?_

The tall, regal figure stood only a few feet away. His majestic aura was as strong as ever, both magnetic, and imposing. The other mourners kept a safe distance away, but could not take their eyes off him, though whether it was fear, or fascination, Wufei couldn’t tell. For his part, Treize Khushrenada paid them no heed. He was here for one person, and one person only.

The glacier-like eyes pierced through him with an intensity that sparked deeply buried feelings in a way only Treize could achieve and Wufei fought the urge to shuffle his feet and look away. Instead, he raised his chin and glowered at the man, trying to keep his cool facade in place though he knew it was wavering. 

He cursed his lack of immunity, wishing there was some sort of anti-Treize vaccine he could inject himself with, and demanded, “What are you doing here? How did you even know where to find me?”

A forked, yet elegant brow quirked. “Are you kidding? I always know where to find you.”

A shiver shot up his spine and spread through his extremities, though he chalked it up to the cold wind whistling through the thin fabric of his Zhiduo. He refused to entertain any thoughts to the contrary. “Do you even hear yourself? Why are you such a creep?”

Treize threw his head back and laughed, a loud, booming guffaw. His deep voice echoed off the rocky faces of the mountains and Wufei winced, fearing, and then morosely hoping for an avalanche. The war may have been over, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still grudges simmering beneath the surface of their outward pleasantries, if one could call it that. Plenty of people on this mountain had good reason to fear and loathe the man standing before him. At the moment though, they didn’t appear to be much of a threat and Treize didn’t seem too concerned with any rogue attempts at retribution.

Wufei openly observed him, the only man who’d ever been able to reduce him to a pathetic, whimpering mess. The tall, mysterious patrician was notorious for his seduction warfare. He knew how to use the art of passion and desire to lure his prey and he made no bones about it. He was also as cutthroat as a blood-thirsty pirate. He made his victims scream in ecstasy while he bled them dry and thanked him for the honor with their last fading breath.

Wufei was duped by him once before, during the war. Treize had roped him in before he’d even realized what was happening. The aristocrat played his body like a fiddle trapped between loving hands and before Wufei could figure out his game, Treize was on his knees before him, pulling at the ties that held his loose pants together, taking him deep into his throat.

He cursed himself as his veins flooded with yearning and he glared at the aristocrat who was now smirking at him as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. Come to think of it, he probably did know and that pissed Wufei off even more. Frustratingly, the anger only fueled the heady rush of his blood. He turned away on wobbly legs, trying to act as casual as possible, though he knew Treize had seen right through it.

Still, it was worth a token effort. “Go away. You’re not welcome here.”

His ears piqued as footsteps crunched in the snow, not away, but towards him. Fabric encased his shoulders, warm from Treize’s body heat, as the man took his coat off and wrapped it around the shivering body of his one time lover.

“No, thank you. I do not need your charity. I know full well your "generosity” always comes with a price.“

"Christ, are you ever going to pull that stick out of your ass?”

Wufei spun around, face flushed red and an indignant rant on the tip of his tongue. “How da -”

The former OZ leader grasped his chin in a gloved hand, tipped his head up, and closed his mouth over Wufei’s in a searing kiss that made his knees weak. Treize’s strong arm wrapped around his back and pulled him into a sturdy chest. Wufei inhaled the man’s musk and keened, his traitorous mind drudging up snippets of long suppressed memories, gone fuzzy with need. 

And gods damn it. Now he was sweltering inside the blasted coat.

Treize pulled away and looked down into the black, glassy eyes, puffing soft, hot breaths against his mouth which smelled like Cuban cigars and expensive Cognac. “I don’t think you really want me to leave.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, you smarmy bastard.”


	10. Ornaments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relena is feeling blue. Dorothy takes matters into her own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorothy/Relena, implied Heero/Relena.
> 
> Fluff, Slight humor, kissing, ladies being ladies.
> 
> Rating: T+. 
> 
> Prompt: Ornaments.

“Honestly, Miss Relena, would you quit moping?”

“I’m not moping!”

“Yes, you are. You’re over there mooning over that Gundam pilot instead of helping me with this stupid tree that you _made_ me get, I might add.”

“I didn’t make you do anything. I asked and you agreed.”

“Because I thought it’d cheer you up and instead of it cheering you up, I’m decorating it myself, and you’re sitting in the corner feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not - ugh! I’m sorry, Dorothy. You’re right. Okay, let’s get this tree decorated.”

“At'ta girl.”

Relena pulled herself up off the Queen Anne sofa where she’d draped herself for most of the afternoon and walked over to the box filled to the brim with hundreds of glass and crystal Christmas tree ornaments. She carefully picked one out and scouted the tree for an empty spot. She found one near the top and hooked the wire over the branch.

“There,” she chirped triumphantly and glanced at the other girl whose face was decidedly not impressed. “What?”

"That’s it?”

Relena scowled and stepped over to the box again, grabbing the lip and dragging it closer. She grabbed four more ornaments, hooking two on each middle finger and turned so Dorothy could see.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Dorothy drawled, her forked eyebrow raised.

“I - no. I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?”

She sidled closer, the gait of a woman who was well-versed in the art of seduction. “Who says that’s a bad thing?”

Relena hesitated. “Well, I - I just…”

“Honey, a bitch is just a lady speaking her mind. Wear it like a badge of honor.” Relena laughed in sheer delight, the sound tinkling through the room like a dozen silver bells. “Really, Miss Relena. You’re too good to be mo - fretting over that hoodlum. You could do so much better.”

Relena sighed, knowing where this was going. “Can we not talk about him, please?”

“As you wish,” she agreed, more than happy to drop the subject.

They hung more ornaments in silence before Relena asked, “What about you? Anyone you have your eye on?”

“Mmm…perhaps…”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

She eyed the other woman for a moment, debating on whether, or not to go for it. But Dorothy was not a gal who wavered on the uncertain line of indecision. Mind made up, she stepped closer, hips swaying from side to side beneath her slinky red dress. She leaned forward and brushed her painted lips against Relena’s ear. “There might a certain someone I have my eye on,” she whispered, tongue slipping out and dancing along the shell of her mistress’ ear.

Relena gasped and pulled back, scandalized. “Dorothy!”

She held her gaze, challenging. “Yes?”

Relena took a step back, then seemed to think better of it. Without giving it too much thought, she dropped the ornaments into the box, reached out and grabbed the blonde woman’s face, pressing their lips together. Dorothy kissed back after her initial surprise wore off, reaching for her mistress with hands itching to touch. She grazed her long red nails up the other girl’s sides and down across her hips, moaning appreciatively into the moist heat of Relena’s mouth.

Relena pulled away finally, looking a little stunned at her own behavior. She licked her swollen lips, deep in thought. “How long have you liked women?”

She shrugged. “Always? Does it matter?”

Relena shook her head and smiled. “No, it doesn’t. Just so long as you kiss me again.”


	11. Grinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retelling of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, GW style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairings.  
> Fluff, humor, crack, poetry format.  
> Rated G. 
> 
> Prompt: Grinch.

'Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house,

Preventers were scurrying, even the mouse.

The stockings were torn down from the walls without care.

For the wrath of Lady Une would soon be there.

 

She strode through the halls

Complaining about colorful balls.

Is there a party I hear?

There'd better not be one near!

 

The garlands came down

From the cubicles with a frown.

And the elves and Santa hats

Shoved under the floor mats.

 

Are those sweets I see in the break room?

Someone will soon meet their doom!

For there is no place for a party in here.

Get back to work, get those butts in gear!

But, Lady Une, it is Christmas!

 

Don't be silly, we are an operative business.

Now, put those ridiculous things away,

For this is not the time to play.

Agent Maxwell asked, Must you be such a Grinch?

And Lady Une answered with a mighty nasty pinch.

I will not stand for such insubordination!

 

But, Lady Une, look at our creation.

She looked and she looked,

And she sputtered and she shook.

For it was a gift, a card to be exact.

Because the Preventers had made a pact,

To do something nice for their leader

And what better way than a homemade Christmas greeter?

 

Suddenly Une's grinchy grinch heart

 Gave her a rather painful start

Had they made this just for her?

To make her cold heart stir?

She took the card and held it close,

And just for today, she felt the dose

Of the love her Preventers gave on that day.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

  



	12. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa receives his very first gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre.  
> Romance, fluff, kissing, schmoop.  
> Rated: T.
> 
> Prompt: Gift.

Thirteen performances this week. Thirteen goddamned performances. It wasn’t easy to admit, but perhaps he was getting a little old for this. He wasn’t seventeen anymore and he could feel it now at the end of the day. What used to be child’s play was quickly becoming a chore. His muscles ached. His bones ached. Hell, even his hair ached.

He loped to his trailer after saying goodnight to Catherine and the ring master, making sure to slide his hand along the lions' cages, promising them a special treat in the morning. They nipped and licked his fingers, letting him know they were going to make good on that promise. 

For now, the only thing on his mind was a hot shower and date with the Sandman.

When he reached his trailer, he noticed the door was ajar, light from within spilling through the crack. Soreness forgotten, his soldier instincts kicked in as the adrenaline rushed through his blood. He steeled himself for a fight, jumping up the three stairs in a single leap, and yanked the door open. He landed on the carpeted floor of the living room in a crouch, dukes raised.

"Oh hi, Trowa! Merry Christmas!"

He straightened, surprised. Well, this was unexpected. "Quatre? What are you doing here?"

The blond was in the process of decorating a small pine tree that he must have picked up on his way over. He stood with a box of ornaments in his hand, looking flushed and petite in his suit tails. The tie and top three buttons of his collar were undone, his jacket slung over the back of a chair. He grinned at Trowa with sparkling white teeth and chirped, "What does it look like? I'm decorating your trailer."

"Why?"

Quatre paused, giving him a sideways glace. "Are you always this dense?"

"Yes, he is," called Catherine as she waltzed past the still open trailer door. Trowa slammed it shut and turned back to his guest. 

"I thought you were working."

"I was. Now, I'm here."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Which was?"

He narrowed his eyes, knowing full well Quatre was deliberately being obtuse. "Why are you decorating a tree in my trailer?"

Quatre shrugged and dangled a red glass ball from his finger. "It's Christmas. I was lonely. I missed you. Simple."

"You were lonely,” he repeated, deadpan. “Aren't you surrounded by Maguanacs at all times?"

Quatre clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, making a _tsk_ sound. "That's the other problem,” he grumbled cryptically. He unhooked the ornament from his finger, but made no move to put it on the tree, looking up at Trowa instead. "I just wanted to see you. Is that wrong?"

He shook his head and stepped further inside, grabbing the ornament from Quatre's hand with a murmured, "No." He hung the red ball on an empty branch and smiled sheepishly at the blond. "I missed you, too."

Quatre beamed, his eyes lighting up brighter than the Christmas tree. He held up the box for Trowa to take another ornament and together they hung the rest up, peppering the easy silence with causal small talk and steering clear of any subjects that were too personal.

Once the tree was done, Trowa headed into the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Love some," Quatre said, sounding relieved as he sunk down onto the couch and kicked his loafers off. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the tousled curls, and blew out a sigh that puffed his cheeks. Trowa peeked into the room from his place at the stove. "Long day?"

"Long year."

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Allah, no. It’s fine, really. Nothing new.”

He returned with two mugs of tea and set them down on the coffee table before plopping down beside his friend. He caught Quatre’s amused look and quirked a brow. “What?”

“I like your costume.”

He glanced down, blushing as he took in his giant polka-dotted clown pants and red suspenders holding them up. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to change.”

“I just said I liked it.” 

He shifted, unused to compliments, but also a little flattered. “Thanks.”

"Oh, I almost forgot. Here." Quatre reached down into one of the bags he'd brought with him and pulled out a package wrapped in bright red paper.

"What's this?"

"A gift."

Trowa stared at him in surprise. "You didn't have to do that."

"Trowa, you're my best friend. I wanted to get you something and when I saw this, I knew it was perfect."

He wasn’t even sure what to say and mumbled out a lame, “Thanks,” feeling uncomfortably on the spot.

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas."

"But I didn't get you anything."

"Are you kidding? Just being here is the perfect gift for me." Quatre nodded at his unconvinced expression. "I'm serious! Now open it."

Trowa tore the paper away and stared down in astonishment at the wooden lion in his hands. "Quatre, this -" He looked it over, turning it round and round, marveling at the beauty of the sculpture. The workmanship was exquisite, every intricate detail carved by a pair of obviously loving hands. "Quatre, I don't know what to say."

"Do you like it?" Quatre watched his expression closely, looking for any sign that he was displeased.

He was stunned, at a complete loss for the thoughtfulness of the gift, the fact that he’d even _gotten_ a gift. "It's - it's beautiful. Really, Quatre, this is too much."

"Don't be silly! I watched the artist carve it and I knew it was perfect for you. Look on the bottom."

He turned it over and looked at the underside. Engraved on the bottom of the base, a message was carved into it. 

_Merry Christmas, Trowa._

_All my love, Quatre.._

He felt the tears stinging the backs of his eyes, but he couldn’t stave them off. They spilled down his cheeks unbidden and he glanced up when he heard Quatre’s gasp.

"Oh, Trowa! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you -"

"No, no," he sniffled, brushing them away. "You didn't. I'm just - overwhelmed. I've - I've never received a gift before."

Tears crested the blond's eyes, such a hopeless empath he was. "I'm sorry. I would hope your first gift was something that might make you happy. If it's not -"

Trowa set the statue down on the table and cupped his palms around Quatre's cheeks. He pulled him in and pressed a kiss to the trembling lips. 

"It's a wonderful gift, but it's not the best one I've ever gotten."

"What's the best one?"

Trowa kissed him again. "You are."


	13. Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo celebrates his wife while she celebrates the Solstice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duo/Hilde.  
> Romance, sexual situations.  
> Rated: M
> 
> Prompt: Yule

_Cold and dark, this time of year,_  
_the earth lies dormant, awaiting the return_  
 _of the sun, and with it, life._  
 _Far beneath the frozen surface,_  
 _a heartbeat waits,_  
 _until the moment is right,_  
 _to spring._

Duo reverently watched his wife recite the Yule prayer as she knelt before her alter. She placed her offerings across the cloth-covered surface and lit the golden candles. The low light from the Yule log, which would burn through the Sabbat, cast a yellowish glow onto Hilde’s white robes. Her feet were bare, a testament to Mother Earth, and a wreath of holly crowned her short, black hair.

She was beautiful, her eyes closed, at peace as she whispered her prayers, welcoming the rebirth of the sun, and the start of life anew. Soon, they would feast and feast well, as long as the Yule log burned, and make love by the firelight. They would run outside, barefoot in the snow and dance and pray before going back inside to warm their bodies with more lovemaking and another feast.

Duo absolutely loved this time of year. The solstices were a time of indulgence. That much was true, but it was when he got to see his wife in all her lovely, free-spirited glory. Relaxed, happy, at one with Nature. She cooked as if it were their last meal, she made love like a goddess, her skin kissed gold by the orange-red hues of the fire. Her dark eyes would glimmer, pupils dilated. Her lips stained red from the wine and swollen from their kisses.

He watched his wife rise gracefully from the alter as if lifted by Britania herself. The robes opened, her white gown beneath low-cut, framing the beveled knot of her necklace which rested between her supple breasts. Duo’s manhood woke from its dormancy, swelling and throbbing for her attentions. She stood over him, silent..knowing. Intuitive of his vulnerability to her wiles. Her eyes shimmered as she knelt again, her breasts brushing against his knees and his hands ached to touch. To fondle and cup the soft flesh in his palms. To wrap his lips around a pointed nipple and savor the hitch in her breath.

She gave a minute shake of her head. _Not yet, love_ , her eyes said. _Soon_. Her hands reached up and grasped his knees, separating his legs. They slid gently up his inner thighs and brushed over his crotch, deft fingers popping the button on his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Duo’s head tipped back, helpless to the pleasure as her head lowered over his lap and swallowed him down.

When he could no longer stand it, he laid her out on the rug before the fire and returned the favor. The skin of her thighs was warmed by the flames, her hands clutching his head as he brought her to an earth-shattering climax. He slid up her body and entered her swiftly. Still shivering with aftershocks, she responded with eager acquiescence, wrapping her legs around him as her black painted fingernails dug into the sinewy flesh of his back.

Afterwards, they lay together on the rug and watched the snow fall outside. For now, they would rest. Then pray and eat, and the cycle would begin again. Duo stroked his fingers up and down his wife’s back, giving thanks not for the first time, for being given the chance to start his life anew. For every moment substantial and infinitesimal, for every chance to celebrate, for every Solstice to come.


	14. Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero may have signed up for the Preventers, but he did not sign up for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heero/Duo (implied).  
> Humor.  
> Rated T.
> 
> Prompt: Elf.

Heero glanced at himself in the full length mirror and sincerely wished he hadn’t. _I look like a cucumber,_ he thought as he glared at the pointy green hat on top of his head. There was a bell at the tip that jingled obnoxiously every time he moved. The outfit was a one-piece ensemble made of green felt and the _tights?_ Did he _really_ have to wear tights? They were red and white striped all the way down to the little green booties on his feet. More bells tinkled on the tapered toes.

He sneered at his reflection. “Omae o korosu.”

He adjusted his costume, turning this way and that. He could hear Duo outside the dressing room of the costume shop ho-ho-ho'ing at the other patrons. _He’s actually pretty good,_ Heero acknowledged grudgingly. He certainly couldn’t do that. Creepy cackle? That he could do, but the deep belly laugh Duo was pulling off, that just wasn’t in his repertoire..

Their mission was to infiltrate an exclusive Christmas party. The gala was being hosted by The Romefeller Foundation and all the muckity-mucks would be in attendance. Among those, the leaders of the OZ and White Fang war factions as well as the head of The Barton Foundation. Classified information would no doubt pass hands and Heero and Duo’s job was to gather intelligence.

“Hey, Heero. You die in there, or what?” Duo’s voice hissed through the door.

“I’m not coming out.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Maybe not for you. I’m not coming out.”

“Heero, you have to. Remember the mission?”

Damn. Duo just had to hit below the belt, didn’t he? Right below the absurdly gold, glittery belt. He reached out and grasped the door handle, took a deep breath, and prepared for the onslaught of laughter that was sure to follow his exit from the safety of the dressing room. He turned the handle and stepped out, his eyes immediately challenging Duo to make something of it.

Duo took one look at him and lost it, all pretense of composure flying out the window. He whooped with laughter and doubled over, holding a hand over his fake belly. “Oh - oh, God! The glare makes it even funnier,” he bellowed. “Hoo boy! Now, there’s something you don’t see every day. The perfect soldier dressed as a Keebler Elf. I would sell my soul for a camera right about now.”  

Heero entertained himself with homicidal thoughts while he waited for Duo to collect himself. Duo panted and giggled through his mirth before finally getting himself under control again.

Which lasted three seconds before he threw his head back, howling loud enough to draw stares from the other shoppers and a few store employees.

Heero crossed his arms and sulked. “Are you finished?”

Duo wiped his eyes with the end of his braid and sniffled. “Yeah…yeah, I think so. Say, after this is over, you want I should drop you back off at Preventers, or the tree house?” Heero’s eyes narrowed as he lost it again, though it was a little quieter this time. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” he wheezed.

“You don’t look much better, you know.”

He really didn’t. Duo looked almost as laughable with the white wig on his head and beard covering half his face, his long braid sticking out between the two hair pieces. Underneath the ridiculously large red velvet coat and pants, a giant plastic belly was strapped over his torso. 

Duo instantly stopped laughing and stared at him with an offended expression. He placed a hand on each side of the big belly and shook it obscenely. “What are you talking about? I was made to wear this,” he declared and tipped his chin up, puffing out his chest with pride.

Heero’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

They walked out of the store side by side after paying for their costumes, drawing even more stares. Heero grumbled as he trudged along the sidewalk, but Duo was in full character, waving to passersby, chortling with jolly good cheer.

“We’d better get some good intel out of this.”

“Relax, Hee-chan. When the party’s over, I’ll let you sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas.”

“Shut up.”


	15. Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa wakes up to a Christmas surprise he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre.  
> Humor, Crack.  
> Rated: T.
> 
> Prompt: Letter.

A bright and cheerful morning greeted Trowa as he rolled over, arm extending to drape around his lover for a leisurely morning cuddle before they both had to get up. It was early still. They could squeeze in at least half an hour of snuggling until they had to go their separate ways for the day.

But instead of Quatre’s warm body, there was empty space and a crinkle of paper where his hand landed. He lifted his head off the pillow with a frown and picked it up, trying to focus bleary eyes and wake his groggy mind enough to comprehend the elegantly handwritten note. **  
**

_Trowa,_

_I want to apologize in advance. I wanted to tell you this morning, but you were still asleep and I didn’t want to wake you._

_I don’t want you to be alarmed when you go downstairs. Honestly, I can explain…_

He sat up with a grunt, scratching idly at his bed head.

_I really didn’t think anything would happen. I just…it was just like a wish I made and…_

“Didn’t think _what_ would happen?” He muttered, becoming increasingly alarmed with each passing moment. “What did you do, Quatre?”

_I wanted to do something nice for you for Christmas. Duo suggested something. You know, as a joke…_

“I should have known.”

_I’m really sorry. I didn’t actually believe in Santa. I honestly didn’t believe he was real._

“What the - _Santa?_ Quatre, what the hell are you talking about?”

_But he’s real, Trowa. He’s really real._

“What the fuck - The fuck did you _do_ , Quatre?”

_Trowa, I made a Christmas wish and well…I didn’t think it would come true, but it did and I’m so sorry._

He swung his legs out of bed and swiped his t-shirt off the back of a chair, slipping it over his head. “Fucking Duo. I’m going to kill him. Putting stupid ideas in his head as usual,” he grumbled as he headed downstairs, letter in hand.

The sound of rushing water reached him first, followed by an abnormal amount of humidity. He stopped halfway down the stairs, frozen in shock.

“Oh, _hell_ no.”

Where their living room should have been, instead was a large pool of water, churned by a twenty foot waterfall that flowed from towering rock covered with moss and tropical plant life. Instead of walls, palm trees were growing up out of the floor which was no longer actually a _floor_ , but a sand bar beneath the crystal blue of the pool. Inside the pool, fish of all colors and sizes swam lazily beneath the surface of the water.

He blinked, stunned, incapable of doing much else and then glanced back down at the letter, praying for a logical explanation.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be.

_Well, basically we have a tropical oasis where the downstairs of our house used to be._

He looked back up and gaped as a toucan glided across the former living room turned “oasis” and landed on top of a palm tree. They sized each other up for a moment, man and bird before Trowa narrowed his eyes and barked, “The fuck are you looking at?”

The bird extended its neck, its head tipping to the side as it let out a loud croak.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he told it and looked back down at the letter.

_By the way, that’s Chester._

“Of course he fucking named it.”

_“Croooak!”_

“Shut up,” he snapped at the bird.

_“Squawk!”_

_So, I’m calling the insurance company from work to get this fixed, so don’t worry._

“How the fuck are they going to fix _this?_ ”

_“Squawk!”_

“And how am I supposed to get out of here?” He asked the toucan.

_“Squeak!”_

_I’m really sorry, Trowa. I wanted to do something nice for you for Christmas, but I didn’t think this would happen. I love you and I hope you can forgive me._

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, plopping down onto the steps to roll the legs of his sleep pants up.

_“Croooak!”_

He pointed a finger at the bird as he stepped into the water. “Another word out of you and I’ll roast you on a spit for dinner.”

Silence.

He nodded and began wading across the pool, causing the fish to scatter in all directions. He could only hope the kitchen was spared this watery nightmare. If he didn’t get some coffee soon, heads were going to roll.


	16. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preventers on a mission to save Christmas. They should have sent someone other than Duo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duo/Wufei.  
> Humor, Crack.  
> Rated: T.
> 
> Prompt: Mission

“Maxwell! What the hell are you doing?” Wufei shouted as his partner flew past him at the speed of a locomotive.

“No time to talk, Fei. Just run.” Duo’s panting, muted voice carried across the frigid polar winds as he disappeared into the white haze of falling and blowing snow.. 

He took a moment to marvel at how well snow acted as a sound barrier before he comprehended the gravity of his partner’s words. Whatever Duo was running from, he wasn’t keen on sticking around to find out. 

_Nataku, what if it’s a polar bear?_

He took off at a sprint, cursing as the icy sting of snow assaulted his face and got into his eyes. 

He reached the snow mobile just as Duo was starting it up. “Get on! Right now,” he hollered over the howling blizzard. Without bothering to ask what was going on, he climbed onto the back and wrapped his arms around his partner’s waist.

Once they reached the shelter, he swung his leg over the side and stood up with his gloved hands propped on his hips. “Just what the hell was that all about?”

Duo climbed off and slung his pack over his shoulder. “Change of plans.”

“What do you mean “change of plans”? We have a mission, Maxwell. We’re supposed to help Santa save Christmas.”

“I don’t think Santa wants our help. Or, at least mine.”

“Why the hell not?”

Duo paused and pulled down the scarf covering the lower half of his face. He was chewing on his lip, a sure fire sign he was about to drop some unpleasant news.

“Well?”

“Santa’s a little angry.”

“Maxwell, what did you do?”

He waved his hand around. “It’s not like it was my fault.”

“Maxwell -”

“Okay! Okay, I…kinda sorta _maaaaybe_ just burned his lair down.”

“You _what?!”_

Before Duo could explain further, he noticed a small light in the distant darkness. As they watched, it began to grow, getting bigger and brighter with each passing moment. 

“What is that?” He asked.

“Yeah, that would be him. Time to go,” Duo announced, bolting towards the small plane standing idly by on the runway beside the shelter. Popping the door open, he looked back at Wufei with snow-caked goggles. “Come with me if you want to live.”

 

*******

 

Thankfully, Christmas was saved, but not before a sight unlike any before was witnessed by man, woman, and child alike. It wasn’t Santa’s sleigh that was most remarkable about this most momentous of Christmases. It was the fact that it was spotted furiously tailing a Cessna across the night sky.

Later, in the safety of their home and mercifully still alive, Duo snuggled up against Wufei in his flannel jammies and slippers as they watched the evening news cover the story of the tiny plane whose mysterious occupants had somehow invoked the wrath of Father Christmas.

“You know,” Wufei murmured. “We’re lucky Une only relegated us to desk duty for the next month. She could have canned our asses.”

“Yeah,” Duo yawned. “But she didn’t.” He lifted his mug of cocoa to his lips. “Hey, you think they’ll write a Christmas carol about us?”


	17. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life's tough when you're a snowman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre (if you squint).  
> Humor, Crack.  
> Rated: T.
> 
> Prompt: Snow.

Wufei cursed as a snowball hit the back of his head, fusing itself to the formerly round, smooth dome. He spun a full ninety degrees on his snowy base and pointed a twigged finger at the cackling snowman a few feet away. “Stop it, Maxwell. I refuse to be involved in your cannibalistic ways.”

The braided snowman abruptly stopped laughing, looking confused. His rounded head tipped on its axis. “But doesn’t cannibalism mean we eat each other?”

Nearby, a tall, slender snowman with long brown bangs, paused from his work of helping a smaller blond snowman reattach his arm. “Technically, yes.”

Wufei rolled his coal-black eyes. “Whatever. Now I’ve got a lump in the back of my head and I can’t get my stupid arm back there to get it _off,”_ he grumped as he flailed a wooden appendage behind him, trying to reach the embedded snowball. The two “fingers” on the end tried to grasp it, but failed. His arm dropped and he sighed in defeat. “This sucks.”

“What sucks, Fei-Ray?” 

He glared and waved his stick arms about. “This! All of this. Being made of snow. Every year a bunch of kids put us together and every year, they get more half-assed about it. Then, we melt until the snow comes back.”

Heero came swishing by, his legless base rolling and twisting to get himself around. “At least you have a nose this year,” he griped at Wufei. Indeed, Heero’s snowy face was lacking in the key facial feature. As a result, his voice was even more nasally than usual.

“At least you don’t have a half-rotted carrot sticking out of the middle of your face,” Wufei shot back.

“Yeah well, at least a dog didn’t run off with your arm and chew it all up,” the little blond piped up as the taller snowman finally managed to wedge said arm back onto his body. It was no easy feat considering he had a total of three fingers on both hands.

The braided snowman cracked up. “That was freakin’ hilarious, Quat. It was even funnier watching Tro try to chase him down to get it back.”

Quatre’s blue button eyes narrowed. “Shut up, Duo.”

Duo laughed even harder, slapping his hand against his base which ended up snapping one of his fingers off. He raised his hand, stared at the broken digit, and screamed in horror.

Wufei smirked. “Serves you right.”

“Damn it. Now, I gotta find another damn arm. I hate having only two fingers,” he grumbled.

“Good luck with that.” Wufei had been trying to find better sticks for weeks. Even with so many trees around, it was difficult to find a decent one.

The sound of children’s voices echoed off the landscape. Quatre’s head spun in a full circle, searching for the source. “We’ve got company.”

“Shit,” Heero muttered. “Everyone act natural.”

They froze in place as the kids rounded the top of the hill, sliding down on sleds and screeching excitedly. They reached the bottom, two of them rolling off into a snow drift. One kid stood up, pointing at the group of snowmen. “Hey, look!” The others picked their sleds up and ran over to investigate.

“Why do they have hair?” One little girl asked. She was freckle-faced with strawberry blonde pigtails sticking out from beneath her knit cap.

An older boy scoffed, “Because someone put wigs on ‘em, stupid.”

The girl wiped her nose with a purple mitten’d hand. “They look funny.”

“They look stupid,” the older boy said. He wrapped his hand around Wufei’s carrot nose and yanked it out. “Ew! This thing’s all gross,” he declared and threw it into a snowbank.

"They don’t look stupid,” another girl said. “I like this one,” she said as she tugged on the end of the snowman’s braid.

"Why’s he standing like that?” A short, stocky boy asked.

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s funny.” She picked up her sled. “C'mon, we gotta go.”

The freckled girl looked at them sadly. “They look cold.”

“Of course they’re cold, idiot. They’re snowmen!” The older boy kicked the small blond one in the side, leaving a dent.

“Quit being mean to her, or I’m gonna tell mom,” the other girl scolded. They turned and headed back up the hill, arguing the whole way. The freckled girl lagged behind, staring up at the blond snowman apologetically. Bending down, she grabbed a handful of snow and packed it against the hole left by the boy’s boot, smoothing it out with her hand. She pulled her red scarf off and wrapped it around the little snowman’s neck, then stood back to admire her work.

“C'mon, Krissy! Mom’s waiting,” the other girl called from the top of the hill.

"Coming,” she called back, grabbing her sled by the rope and trudging back up the hill.

After a few minutes, the snowmen moved again. Heero did a double take when he spotted Duo with one stick arm braced on his hip, the other bent behind his head. "What the hell are you doing?”

“What? You said "act natural”.“

"Ow,” Quatre moaned, rubbing the spot where the brat kicked him.

Trowa shuffled over, twigged hands reaching for the distressed blond. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just hurts a little.”

Trowa’s coal mouth turned down, green button eyes glaring at the top of the hill. “I wanted to kill that kid. I _still_ want to kill him.”

“You can’t, Trowa. You know that. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

“Stupid little shit…where is it?” Wufei growled, frantically digging through the snowbank. His voice suddenly sounded more nasally than before. “Aha!” He straightened, holding the carrot in the air triumphantly. “Got it.” He brushed the snow off of it and stuck it back onto his face.

“I thought you said it was nasty and rotten,” Heero reminded him.

“Yeah well, it’s better than nothing.” He twisted the carrot until it was secured and huffed, propping his twiggy fingers on his hips. “See? I told you this sucks.”


	18. Banned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Treize bans Christmas. Five young peasants get even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre, Treize/Une.  
> Humor, Crack.  
> Rated: T.
> 
> Prompt: Banned.

The doors to the last of the Christmas shops were bolted closed with large sheets of metal screwed into the door and window jams. Soldiers sprayed giant X’s over the panels with cans of black spray paint. The festive garlands, wreaths, giant candy canes, twinkle lights, and big red bows were carted away to the town square to be incinerated. Even the jolly store and street corner Santas were hauled away in chains despite the teary protests of the village children.

The townspeople gathered around to watch the dismantling of Christmas and the burning of their decorations. The holiday was officially banned, as decreed by King Treize and his Queen, the majestic, but icy cold Lady Une.

Near the center of the crowd, surrounded by their fellow villagers, five boys watched solemnly as icons representing the cheerful holiday were scorched to blackened husks. The general of King Treize’s army, Zechs Merquise stood on a steep dias. He was covered from head to toe in shiny armor, overseeing the pillage. Only his glacial eyes were visible, his steely gaze warning away any dissension. Beside him, a lumpy old man wearing similar armor read from a scroll. His gravelly voice echoed off the buildings of the town square like a bullhorn as he proclaimed the wishes of the King and his Queen.

Admiral Quinze bellowed over the top of the long scroll as he read off the list of items that were banned from the town. “As decreed by King Treize, the holiday known as Christmas is hereby banned, now, and forevermore. Any such villagers and townsfolk who dare to defy these orders will be court marshaled, tried, and hung in the town square, by order of the King. Items that are forbidden within municipal limits include the use of evergreens such as wreaths, garlands, holly, mistletoe, and trees of pine. Any items depicting the fictional image of Santa Claus, or of any of his elves, or reindeer. In addition, there will be no use of red bows -”

“Man, what a pisser,” a young villager known as Duo Maxwell grumbled. He stood with his elbow resting on the shoulder of another young boy named Heero. He scoffed as he listened to the Admiral’s rambling and twirled the end of his long braid between his fingers.

“Careful, Duo. Someone might hear you,” whispered a small blond boy that stood beside him. A taller young man with brown hair stood at his back with his arms draped over him, providing protection and warmth from the bitter chill of the air. Trowa, as he was called, was watching the grizzly old man and his general with his chin on the blond’s head and narrowed green eyes.

“Psssh. Like I care,” Duo muttered.

“You will care when they haul you up on that platform with a noose around your neck,” a black haired boy said.

“No one is going to be hauling anyone anywhere,” hissed Heero, wrapping an arm around Duo. “We’re going to put a stop to this.”

The black haired boy sputtered, “How? What could we possibly do?”

“I don’t know, Wufei, but we’d better think of something. Do you want to live like this?”

Duo rested his chin on his fist, thinking. “I know. We’ll dress Quat up like an elf and send him into the palace. He’ll cute his way into the King and Queen’s heart.”

“We’ll do no such thing,” snapped Trowa, tightening his arms around Quatre, now for the sole purpose of preventing his lover from throttling the other boy.

Duo threw up his hands. “Well, I’m all out of ideas.”

“There’s only one thing we can do,” hissed Heero, voice dropping to an ominous timbre. “We’ll have to kill them all.” He turned to his friends who were all staring at him bug-eyed. “What? Too much?”

“Guys,” Quatre said. “I think there’s a way we can accomplish our goals without bloodshed.” He cut Duo off when the braided boy opened his mouth, “Or dressing up like elves, or any other stupid thing you’re considering.”

 

*******

 

King Treize and Queen Une were disturbed from their precious throne time by a hysterical servant who ran into the room, huffing and puffing in a panic.

“Your Highness, you must come quick! It’s absolutely terrible!”

Intrigued, the king leaned forward, propping a royal elbow on his knee. “Terrible, you say?”

Queen Une steepled her fingers. “Excellent.”

The servant led them to the grand ballroom of the palace. Both king and queen stopped abruptly at the threshold, gaping in shock.

“No,” the queen hissed.

“It can’t be,” gasped the king. He swooned, leaning against Une, thinking she’d catch him before he fell. She didn’t. The king spilled onto the marble floor in an ungainly sprawl.

The ballroom was decorated from floor to ceiling with Christmas greens, lights, bows, and a vast assortment of plastic Santa’s, gingerbread men, lollipops, candy canes, and elves. Cheerful, tinkling music was coming from somewhere within the hoard. Fluffy fake snow covered the floors. There was so much glitter, it would take decades to clean it all. 

There were five giant Christmas trees scattered throughout the room. Not an inch of space was spared of tacky festoons. In the middle of the garish display, hanging from the giant chandelier, was the king’s top general, Zechs Merquise, and his right hand man, Quinze. They were bound and gagged with a giant red bow, squirming helplessly.

Une clutched her pearls in dread and glared down at her vapid husband. “You _fool!_ See? What did I tell you? What did I say? No good would come of this absurd law of yours and look what happened. I was right, as always," she spat and kicked him with a dangerously pointed shoe.

She marched into the ballroom, whipping a semi-automatic handgun out of her bodice and pointed it towards Zechs and Quinze who shook their heads, mumbling protests behind their gags. Une pulled the trigger and the ribbon suspending them from the chandelier broke, dropping both men onto the floor. They got to their feet, blushing in embarrassment and removed their gags.

“I want this cleaned up, boys. Are we clear?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

She turned and pointed at the king who was pretending to be unconscious in the hopes he wouldn’t be relegated to clean-up duty. “You, too. You’re not fooling me. Get up and help these two simpletons clean this mess. And repeal that ridiculous law! Maybe next time you’ll actually _listen_ to me.”

The king sat up, looking petulant, but cowed. “Yes, dear.”

The Queen turned sharply on her heel and strode off down the hallway towards her personal suite, ready for a hot bubble bath and a glass of expensive champagne. She stopped at her husband’s quarters, barging in to swipe his rose-scented bubbles and then retired to her rooms.

In the morning, Christmas was reinstated. The peasants rejoiced.


	19. Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo and Quatre get into a sticky situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairings.  
> Humor, Crack.  
> Rated T+.
> 
> Prompt: Candy

Duo set up the last of the explosives and swiped the detonator, carefully pocketing the device after making sure the safety mechanism was locked in place. He stood up and gleefully dropped the hard drives crammed with stolen intelligence into his backpack. Grabbing the walkie talkie from his belt, he brought it up to his mouth and pressed down on the mic button, speaking in a low, hushed voice. "Zero Four. All set here. What's your status?"

Static. 

He tried again. "Zero Four, do you read me?"

More static. Cursing, he tried a third time. "Zero Four! Com -"

A loud hissing sound whistled through the speaker followed by Quatre's broken voice, "Zero Four here, can you gi - "

"Come back? Zero Four, come back."

Quatre was speaking, but Duo couldn't make sense of it through the horrible connection. "Zero Four, repeat! I did not read you. Repeat, I did not read you." He pressed the walkie talkie to his ear and waited. Quatre's voice came through, a little clearer, but still indiscernible. "Come again, Zero Four?"

Zero Four’s voice was louder this time, but it didn't come through the speaker. It echoed off the steel walls of the base, followed by gunshots and the thundering drone of at least a dozen footsteps. Quatre skidded around the corner a moment later and barreled towards him.

"I said, _run!"_

He grabbed Duo by the shirt as he flew by and together they ran though the winding hallways, the shouting OZ soldiers in hot pursuit. As they approached the exiting doors, Duo hollered, “Stand back!” He aimed his pistol at the lock panel and held a hand over his face to protect it from the explosion of sparks when the bullet destroyed the wiring that kept them from escaping.

The blast triggered the hydraulics system and they dropped to the floor just as a hail of artillery sailed though the air above their heads. They skidded through the open door and Quatre quickly scrambled to his feet, slamming himself against the switch.

"Lock the door,” he bellowed as it closed.

Duo punched the stolen code into the outside panel, and swore colorfully. "I can't! The locking function is damaged."

"They're coming! We have to seal the exit."

"How?" The door shook and vibrated as the OZ soldiers pounded on it. “C’mon, Quat. Use that giant brain of yours and get us out of this.”

"You still have those candy canes?"

He blinked, not understanding the purpose of the question. "Uh, yeah...? Why the hell are you asking -"

"Give them to me."

He clutched his bag to his chest protectively. "Why?"

"We're going to use them to seal the door."

"No way! These are Heero’s. You know how he gets about his candy."

"He’ll live. Come on now, the candy canes,” Quatre pressed, holding his hand out towards him. “Duo!”

The banging on the other side increased. There was a loud screech as fingers appeared beneath the bottom of the door. They were bypassing the locks, trying to lift it manually.

"Hurry up! They're going to get though!"

"Okay! Okay, here." Duo handed the bag over.

Quatre shot the wiggling fingers out from under the door, then fished out the candy canes and lined them single file on the floor along the seam. "Light the torch.”

Duo lit the small canister and knelt down, holding the flame over the candy and melting it into a sticky goo. It seeped into the seam as the door wiggled and shook. As the candy cooled and set, it created a thick glue that adhered the bottom of the door to the metal floor.

Quatre held the bag open for Duo to drop the torch in and zipped it closed. He stood up, slinging the bag over his back, looking decidedly smug. "Let's go."

They ran to the transport platform, aka: The parking lot. Duo smashed the window of the nearest vehicle, tripped the locks, and disabled the alarm. He had the steering console opened, the battery and starter wires in his hands before Quatre’s ass even touched the vinyl padding of the passenger seat. A few sparks later and they were off, tearing down the road at breakneck speed.

Once they were at a safe distance, Duo glanced appreciatively at his partner. "That was a kick ass idea! I never would have thought of that."

The blond pulled the detonator from Duo's pocket, flipped himself around in his seat, and pressed the button. The blast from the explosion shook the car, raining dust, scraps of charred metal, and shattered glass onto their vehicle. He was grinning when he turned back around and graced his partner with a cheeky wink. "There’s a reason I’m the strategist, you know."

"Don’t get cocky.”

“Oh, like you don’t.” Quatre reached for the bag and plopped it onto his lap. “Did you get the intel?”

“Duh.”

“Good. Make a stop at the grocery before we head back to rendezvous.”

“Why?”

“The candy canes, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Good idea. Heero would kill us if we came back without his candy. Boy needs to see a shrink about his sugar problem. He’s worse than I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize you can't actually seal a metal door with melted candy canes.
> 
> ...At least I don't think so. Never tried it. xD


	20. Christmasgram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothy learns the hard way that her long-time rival doesn’t get mad, he gets even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre, Heero/Relena.  
> Humor.  
> Rated: M for sexually suggestive themes and language.
> 
> Prompt: Christmasgram.

Dorothy Catalonia returned home after a long, harrowing day of cracking the proverbial whip and grinding the hearts of men beneath the spiked heel of her Stiletto. Making people cry for their mothers was a tough job, but hey, _someone_ had to do it. She dropped her purse onto the chair by the door and kicked off her shoes, her mind on one thing and one thing only. A stiff drink.

She stepped over to the bar in stocking clad feet and fixed herself a strong Manhattan. Dropping two olives into the glass, she walked into the kitchen with her cocktail and pushed the play button on her answering machine. She skimmed through the stack of mail on the counter while the tape whirred, dropping the credit card bills into her ‘Don’t Give A Fuck’ box and setting aside the new arrival of hate mail to savor for later.

*beep*

_"Yes, uh...Ms. Catalonia, while I appreciate the gesture of a holiday gift, I do not appreciate receiving a bottle of Astroglide with a card that reads, "To make pulling the stick out of your ass a little easier." Adding Merry Christmas on the end of it doesn't make it any better. In the future, I'd ask that you refrain from sending me a gift altogether. Thank you."_

She smirked as Chang Wufei’s clipped voice bid her goodbye and leaned over the counter with her chin on her hand.

*beep*

_"Well, Dorothy, I hope you're proud of yourself. A sex swing? Really? You know, when you said you wanted to get Quatre and I a "couple's" gift, I didn't think it would be quite so...skeezy. Then again, we're talking about you, so I really shouldn't be all that surprised."_

Barton paused to let out a heavy sigh, sounding as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Dorothy snorted, knowing full well that was not the case. She had no doubt the perv had been imagining all the ways in which he could... _utilize_ the gift from the first second he laid eyes on it.

Men.

_"Anyway, now I have to try to find a way to convince Quat to come out of our bedroom. He’s so embarrassed, he barricaded himself in there and won’t even speak to me. Thanks a lot."_

She dipped her knees, curtsied, and smugly sipped her drink. “Don’t tell me I sent him back _into_ the closet,” she snarked and tipped her head back with a loud cackle.

*beep*

_"Honestly, Dorothy! I expected better from you! I cannot believe you got Heero a blow up doll! And the card? "Maybe you'll actually get some now"? I'll have you know I am not a prude. Heero is actually quite happy in the bedroom if I do say - wait. You did this just so I would call you and admit - Goddamn it, Dorothy!"_

She smiled and flipped her hair over his shoulder. “Too easy.”

*beep*

_"Hey. S’up, D. Thanks for the handcuffs. I owe you one."_

She blinked at the machine, mouth turning down in distaste. “Could have at least wished me a Merry Christmas, you degenerate.”

*beep*

_"Dorothy, this is Heero. Just wanted to say thanks...for the gift. Just - just don't tell Relena I thanked you. She's pretty pissed."_

"Jesus, Yuy. TMI."

*beep*

_"Dorothy, this is Quat. Trowa thinks I'm hiding in here because I'm embarrassed. I don't have much time because he's trying to pick the lock. Okay, fine. I'll admit you're good. But I do have another ace up my sleeve. Merry Christmas, Dorothy. I hope you're presentable..."_

She paused with her glass pressed against her lips, confused by Winner’s cryptic message. Now, what the hell could _that_ possibly mean?

A moment later, there was a loud banging on the door which caused her to jump out of her skin and spill vodka all over her custom Valentino dress. She cursed vehemently and reached for a hand towel to dab the liquid away.

“Goddamnit! This is dry clean only, you prick! What the fu -”

##  **_*BANG BANG BANG*_ **

“Alright! I’m coming, Jesus Christ. And I’m sending your sorry ass my dry cleaning bill, whoever you are.”

She walked to the door and peered through the peephole, hackles rising when she realized whoever it was had their hand over it.

"Who is it?" She demanded.

"Christmasgram," replied a gruff voice.

"...Christmasgram, the hell?" She unhooked the lock and swung the door open, jaw dropping in shock. “What the _fuck?”_

Duo Maxwell stood on the other side, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He was clad in only a pair of tight red, sequined briefs, a green feather boa, and a Santa hat. He twirled the handcuffs she'd sent him on one finger and clutched the handle of a boombox with his other hand.

She stood frozen, stunned, her mind desperately trying to make sense of this garish sight.

_I hope you’re presentable..._

Her mouth snapped shut as realization metaphorically smacked her across the face and she narrowed her eyes at the cheekily grinning man. "Oh, no. No, he didn't." That little blond shit wasn't _that_ devious, was he?

"Oh yes, he did,” Maxwell informed her with a nod of his head and bent down to hit 'play' on the boombox. Ear-shattering techno music blasted out of the speakers, shaking the walls of the apartment building with the rhythmic _thud thud thud_ of subwoofers.

She stared in abject horror as he began dancing, numb shock freezing her in place despite the tiny part of her brain that was desperately screaming at her to slam the door and call security. He thrust his hips forward and then turned in the opposite direction, gyrating his scrawny, sequined ass against her.

“C’mon, girl,” he goaded. “Let’s get this party started.” He spun back around, pulled the feather boa from around his shoulders, and wrapped it around her neck, singing along with the music. “What is love? Baby, don’t hurt me...don’t hurt me...no more. Sing it, girl!” He slid the tickling polyester boa from left to right as he shimmied and shook, his upper lip curling in a way that would make Elvis green with envy.

Down the hall, apartment doors were opening as curious neighbors stuck their heads out to see what the commotion was. She knew what was coming next and groaned in defeat when cell phones inevitably appeared in their hands.

She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this would be smeared all over the tabloids by tomorrow morning and gleefully began to plot the untimely demise of the man responsible.

"Okay, Winner. This is war."


	21. Hearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa and Quatre enjoy a quiet Christmas at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre.  
> Fluff, Schmoop.  
> Rated: T.
> 
> Prompt: Hearth.

Scented cinnamon and pine candles filled the house with a comforting bouquet of spicy sweetness, underlined by earthy spruce. The glow from the candlelight added to the warm and cozy ambiance of the fireplace and the strings of twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around the large Douglas fur in the corner as well as the ropes of evergreen draped over the arching windows and across the mantle.

Quatre stared shamelessly at the glorious sight of his lover's firm backside as Trowa bent down to stoke the fire with a poker. It was the kind of ass you could bounce a quarter off of and Quatre knew this for a fact because he'd tried it on more than one occasion. The first time was out of sheer curiosity. After that, he insisted it was only to make sure Trowa wasn't slacking on his regimen of strenuous workouts designed to keep up his powerful physique. It was for science and a genuine concern for his lover's health. Yep.

They'd been invited to Relena Darlian's annual Christmas party that night, but politely declined in favor of spending the holiday at home this year with a promise that they would attend next Christmas Eve. It was frigid cold outside and the snowstorm was fast approaching blizzard conditions which only reaffirmed that they'd made the right decision. It was the kind of weather that was best spent indoors in front of a roaring fire with a glass of wine and the one you love. For Quatre, it didn't get any better than that.

They were cooking Christmas dinner together. A meal of turkey, stuffing, potatoes, roasted vegetables, and cranberries. They managed to work around each other in the kitchen despite the occasional tight squeeze and giggled like idiots every time they bumped into one another. They snatched morsels from the other's work spaces, stole sweet kisses, and sipped wine until heads were fuzzy and cheeks pinked.

The buzz of the timer interrupted Quatre's ogling and he gave Trowa's upturned ass a hearty slap on his way to the kitchen.

The tall brunette murmured a, "Hey, now," and playfully poked him with the tongs. 

In the kitchen, Quatre flicked the timer off and opened the oven door, turning his face away at the blast of heat. Slipping mitts over his hands, he pulled out the roasting pan, heavy with a golden brown turkey. Careful so as not to spill the swirling juices, he slid it on top of the stove and quickly grabbed the casserole dish filled with stuffing. He pushed it into the oven, closing the door and wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

Muscled arms slid around him from behind and Quatre leaned into the embrace, sighing contentedly. "I'm so glad we decided to stay home."

Trowa turned him around, his expression uncertain. "Are you sure? You're not just saying that, are you?"

Surprised by his love's change in demeanor, Quatre cupped his face and whispered, "Of course not. Parties are fun and all, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be on Christmas than at home and no one I'd rather be with than you." He pulled Trowa's head down and pressed a lingering kiss against his mouth. Trowa returned it, squeezing him tightly before leaning back and smiling down at him.

"I'm glad. I just didn't want to bore you to death."

"Trowa! How could you ever think that?" He lovingly caressed a chiseled cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. "You're the most important person in my life. I love you and I love spending time with you."

Beautiful forest green eyes lit up with such joy, it nearly hurt Quatre's heart. "I love you, too. I'm happy we decided to stay home."

Quatre pecked the tip of his nose. "It's perfect. I can't think of a more perfect way to spend the holiday."

They loaded their plates with piles of comfort food and refilled their glasses with a spiced Zinfandel. Skipping the formal dining room, they opted for the living room where they cuddled together on the plush sofa with their legs tucked beneath them. Quatre pressed a slice of turkey against Trowa's lips, laughing as he bit down with a soft growl. "You're an idiot."

"Takes one to know one."

After supper, they returned their dishes back to the kitchen where Trowa quickly washed them up and set them in the drying rack while Quatre fixed them a couple of spiked coffees, topping them both with an abundance of whipped cream.

Full from the hearty meal, they laid on the couch with a fuzzy throw over their legs, delightfully languid and buzzed. Trowa stretched out behind him and held him against his chest as they watched the snow fall and relaxed to the soft sounds of tinkling music, harmonized by the howling winds outside. Drowsy with food, drink, and love, they basked in the warmth and comfort of each other. 

"Merry Christmas, Trowa."

"Same to you, baby."


	22. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa and Quatre welcome the Winter Solstice in the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre.  
> Humor, Schmoop.  
> Rated: T+.
> 
> Prompt: Heat.

Winter arrived with a blast of record temperatures that scorched the Egyptian desert. Heat rose off the baked sandy dunes in waves that rippled and distorted images in the distance.

Inside the Manguanac base, numerous fans were running full throttle, yet they still failed to significantly cool the stifling air.

Earlier that afternoon, Quatre had dragged Trowa to his designated room for some privacy where they lounged together on the small bed. Their bodies were clad in nothing more than briefs, their skin slick with sweat. Not even the fan blowing a constant stream of air over them was enough to completely dry their perspiration. It was simply too hot to stop sweating long enough for it to properly do its job.

Quatre lay on his back, pinned beneath the weight of his lover. He groaned in discomfort as Trowa’s body heat only exacerbated the oppressive condition of the room. He ignored it for as long as he could, but eventually, he was forced to break the heavy petting and making out.

“Trowa, wait - stop. Please.”

The man in question lifted his head, his brows furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s too hot,” he protested, wiggling out from beneath him. He stood up and angrily pushed sweat-dampened hair away from his face. “I know it’s the desert and all, but even the desert has winters.” He stepped up to the open window and peered through it, squinting and holding up a hand to protect his eyes from the blinding sun. “This is ridiculous.”

Trowa turned onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “Aren’t you used to this?”

He shot his lover an exasperated look. “No! I didn’t grow up in the desert, you know. The colonies have this nifty thing called climate control. You should know. You’re from one, too. Besides, who could ever get used to one hundred twenty degrees?”

“One hundred seventeen.”

He threw up his hands. “Oh, for - same difference!”

Trowa swung his long legs over the side of the bed and sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Well, look. It’s going to be hot no matter what. Why not just make the best of a miserable situation?”

Quatre’s swollen mouth quirked. “Since when did you become so optimistic?”

“It’s been happening a lot lately,” Trowa admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I have you to thank for that.”

He smiled and turned from the window, suddenly launching himself at his lover, laughing as he toppled them both over onto the mattress. He straddled Trowa’s hips and leaned down, kissing him deeply, determined to take his advice and just make the best of it.

Without warning, the door burst open, accompanied by a loud shriek. Acting on soldier instinct alone, Trowa rolled his body until Quatre was almost completely hidden behind him, shielding his near-nakedness from the intruder and yet not giving a second thought to his own. His muscles tensed as he poised himself for a fight, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.

Abdul’s fez’d head appeared in the doorway, ever-present shades perched on his nose. He grinned toothily at the two boys on the bed and quipped, "Hot enough for you guys?" 

Quatre jumped up with a murderous glare and stomped towards the cackling prankster. “Abdul, you son of a -”

“Later,” he shouted and booked a hasty retreat, whooping like a madman as he ran down the corridor.

Quatre snarled and slammed the door shut. "I really need to think about installing some locks around here,” he muttered.

“I’ll vouch for a guard dog,” Trowa added.


	23. Working

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wufei and Sally ring in the New Year at the Preventers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wufei/Sally.  
> Humor, Fluff, Wufei being adorably awkward.  
> Rated: T.
> 
> Prompt: Working.

Sally Po hurried to the lobby of Preventers' Headquarters after she'd heard a loud pop followed by a long string of colorful and inventive curses from her co-worker, Agent Chang. Worried that some lone wolf had attempted a terrorist attack on the organization, she pulled her Glock from her holster, released the safety, and silently scaled the wall, cautiously peeking around the corner to ascertain the situation.

She spotted Agent Chang standing in the middle of the lobby with an open box in his hands, completely covered in gold paint. Confetti stuck to the sticky mess all over his clothes, face, and hair. Sally clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her bark of laughter, but too little too late. Wufei's head turned sharply in her direction, his expression murderous.

"Laugh it up, Po," he growled, dropping the box onto the tile floor and picking a long string of crinkled confetti paper off the bridge of his nose. "Stupid Maxwell..." he muttered.

"Paint and confetti bomb, huh?" Sally was valiantly trying to suppress her giggles, but her shaking shoulders gave her away.

Wufei kicked the box across the room. "I don't know why he can't just make a phone call wishing me a Happy New Year like a normal person."

"Agent Maxwell is far from a normal person."

"No shit."

Having mercy on the younger agent, she offered, "Go hit the showers. I'll clean this up."

He glanced up at her, his dark eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you."

"Not a problem. You can get a spare uniform from storage. Just leave the dirties in the locker room."

He nodded and hurried off to clean up while she gathered a broom, mop, bucket, and cleaning solution out of the custodial closet. She swept up the confetti, but the paint was proving difficult to remove. The mop didn't do much more than push the gold pigment around the tile. She ended up having to change the water bucket six times before the floor began to resemble its former spotlessness. What she really wanted to do was leave it for Agent Maxwell, but Une would be arriving to work first thing in the morning and she'd have an absolute coronary if she found the lobby in its current state.

Wufei came out a short time later and to her surprise, helped her finish cleaning up. They were the only two agents on duty for New Year's Eve with the exception of the security guards patrolling the outside the building. Once the lobby was presentable again, they headed back up to the offices to finish the droning paperwork they were assigned for the night.

Around fifteen minutes to midnight, Sally flicked on the vid screen that was mounted in the corner of the large, cubicle’d room. A New Year's Eve special was airing with a festive conglomerate of music and fashionably bundled celebrities. Giant crowds had gathered in the center of Tokyo to ring in the New Year. Excited party goers donned silly hats and blew into funny sounding horns, bouncing around in jubilation with cheeks pinked from the cold. Confetti and balloons floated and swirled around above their heads and mushy couples snuggled together, sharing coats and blankets, thrilled to greet the New Year with a kiss.

Sally huffed, feeling a bit let down. She'd wanted to be there tonight, but Une insisted she needed her at work. Wufei stood next to her, watching the celebrations with a twisted look of distaste, but when he glanced at Sally, his expression softened with sympathy.

"Maybe you can go next year," he said by way of comfort.

"Yeah. I hope so," she said and lifted her shoulders in a resigned shrug.. "I didn't have a date anyway."

"Who says you need a date?"

"Well, part of the big deal about New Year's is having someone to kiss when the ball drops."

Wufei paused in silent contemplation, appearing suddenly nervous. He reached up and awkwardly scratched at his nose with a mumbled, "Well, I could - I mean, if you want - we could..."

She stared at him, one side of her mouth curling up. "Agent Chang. Are you offering to kiss me?"

"No! No - I - well, yes,” he confessed, his blush rising to the tops of his ears.

More charmed than she could ever remember being by the show of humility from a man who rarely showed any, she smiled warmly at him. "I would love that."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You would?"

"Of course I would.” She reached for his hand and together they counted down the final seconds, watching with increasing anticipation as the giant, lighted sphere lowered from the top of the pole. When it reached the bottom, the two agents turned to face each other, but hesitated, giving the other a chance to back out.

Sally’s expectant expression never wavered and Wufei decided that was good enough. He lifted his hand and gently grasped a lock of blonde hair between thumb and forefinger, tucking it behind her ear with heart-melting tenderness. 

She returned the gesture, brushing a sharp cheek bone with the backs of her fingers and tipped her head forward. Encouraged, Wufei swallowed his trepidation and went for broke.

Their lips touched in a tentative caress, both of them taking a moment to get the feel of it. Then, they pressed harder together, mouths parting with sighs and soft groans as nervousness fell by the wayside in favor of sensation. Sally swiped her tongue against his, tasting traces of his favorite lemon tea on his tongue. 

For several minutes, time was suspended and the world around them disappeared. Arms held each other close, fingertips stroking up and down backs and clutching desperately to hips as their passion rose to the frightening point where Sally began to entertain thoughts of taking things a step further.

She pulled back when the logical part of her mind butted in and reminded her that she was still at work. She grinned at the glazed look in Wufei’s eyes and pressed her thumb against his kiss swollen bottom lip. "That was the best kiss I've ever had," she said breathlessly.

His eyes widened, not anticipating such a compliment. He'd only kissed two people in his entire life and assumed he probably wasn't that great at it. And a girl like Sally, he surmised, had probably been kissed many times. He blushed and looked away, shuffling his feet. "You don't have to tell me that. I know I’m - "

"I'm not in the habit of lying, Agent Chang. I was serious,” she said firmly and grasped his chin, turning his head back. "I would love to do it again."

And God, how cute was he when he was adorably flushed and flattered? He smiled, a little shyly and admitted, "I would like that, too. Happy New Year, Agent Po."

She closed the distance between them again and murmured the same against his mouth before capturing his lips for another kiss.

 

*******

 

When Une arrived in the morning, she took great pleasure in forcing them to explain why they hadn’t gotten their work done even though she knew the answer. The awkward shuffles, stuttering excuses, and flaming cheeks were both damning and sadistically entertaining.


	24. Noël

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa and Quatre get their Christmas freak on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trowa/Quatre.  
> Mild smut, Roleplay, Mild kink, Spanking.  
> Rated: M.
> 
> Prompt: Noël.

"Quatre."

He froze in the doorway, his arms loaded down with packages. That voice. Quatre knew that voice and what it meant. It was deep, gravelly and dark with danger. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly turned towards the direction it came from.

The living room was dim, the blinds closed. A tall, broad-shouldered figure sat eerily still in of the armchairs that flanked the fireplace. The man’s features were indiscernible. Only his silhouette was visible, a menacing shadow. Quatre's heart quickened, pounding against his rib cage. He knew exactly who it was and that knowledge was enough to encase his bones in ice.

"Trowa? What are you doing here?"

Trowa was silent as he rose from the chair. His powerful body loomed as he moved forward into his personal space. Quatre could now see that he was wrapped in a long, red robe, trimmed with white fur. It was parted, revealing the man's strong, smooth chest and Quatre, despite the threatening atmosphere, had to force himself to refrain from touching the tempting skin and feel the sinewy muscles twitch beneath his fingertips. 

A hand shot out, lightning quick, grabbing him by the throat and pulling him in against the man’s body. Trowa bent his head down and brushed his nose against the soft skin of his neck, his breath hot and laced with arousal. Trowa's lips parted, speaking in a whisper against his fluttering pulse.

"You've been a naughty boy."

Before Quatre could even find the wits to protest, he was forcefully grabbed and lifted bodily, thrown over the man’s shoulder like a sack of flour. Indignant, he squeaked and thumped Trowa’s back with his fists as he was carried over to the chair. A moment later, the room spun and he found himself face down across Trowa’s lap, his fingers scraping the carpeted floor for purchase. 

He blushed with mortification as his pants were yanked down to his thighs, followed by a rough, calloused palm caressing the creamy skin of his buttocks. He tried to control his jack-rabbiting pulse, panting against Trowa's bare leg. He knew what was coming and braced himself for impact and he was not disappointed when the punishment came.

The silence of the room was broken by the resounding crack of palm against skin. He yelped and squirmed over Trowa's lap, legs kicking, fingers clawing the carpet as another strike came down, then another, and another.

"Trowa, please! I didn’t do anything!" 

There was no response, no pause, or hesitance as the hits continued. He muffled his cries against Trowa’s leg and endured the sting of his punishment, feeling the skin of his ass grow hotter and hotter. After ten strikes, Trowa shoved him off and he rolled across the floor, shaky and sniffling. Trowa remained seated, watching, waiting.

Quatre rubbed his sore backside and stared up at the man with frightened eyes. "Wh - what do you want?"

Trowa’s eyes gleamed with a sinister light as he rasped, "You know."

He shivered and nodded in defeat, reaching down to pull his trousers all the way off and then waited for the next command. Trowa’s hand lifted, palm up as he ordered him to stand up.

He shakily got to his feet, flushing at his exposed lower half. Trowa opened his robe all the way, revealing his erection. He crooked his finger and pointed at his groin with the other. “Ride it, baby. You know you want to.”

He sniffled, straddled the man's thighs, and sunk down onto the lubricated length, breath catching in his throat from the intense stretching sensation. Trowa grasped his trembling hands and circled his arms around his neck, his own wrapping around Quatre's back and pulling him against his chest. Quatre knew better than to make the first move and waited for the man who held him prisoner to start thrusting.

He bit down on his tongue, moaning like a shameless whore as Trowa pressed up into him and began thrusting. He knew exactly how to do it, how to angle his erection to touch the most sensitive places inside him that would cause him to melt with pleasure. He rested his head on the man’s shoulder and resigned himself to the fucking. There was nothing left to do, but enjoy the ride.

The rhythm built up to a brutal pace and he felt the imminence of release, keening openly as his climax rose up swift and powerful. Trowa pressed his lips against the shell of his ear and whispered the command that he knew would tumble them both into existential bliss.

"Say my name."

He hovered at the peak for an endless moment, his mouth opening and closing as his brain struggled to find the right words. “ _Hnngh_...ah, God. Père - Père Noël!” The agony crested and spilled over and he bit down into the meaty flesh of Trowa’s shoulder, his body rolling and shaking, riding the waves of ecstasy.

Trowa grabbed a handful of his blond curls and pulled his head up, pressing their mouths together as he groaned through his own climax. After a few moments of white-hot rapture, they collapsed together in a panting, sweating heap of trembling limbs and soft laughter.

“Jesus, Trowa,” he huffed, trying to shake the haze of afterglow enough to speak coherently.

"Did you like that? Was it kinky enough for you?"

He chuckled and kissed his lover’s neck. “And then some. Talk about pleasant surprises.”

“Well, I know how hard you’ve been working and how much stress you’ve been under with all this Christmas stuff. I just wanted to help you relax.”

“You certainly accomplished that,” he said, lifting up enough to get a proper kiss. “It was perfect. Best Christmas present I ever had."

“Better than diamonds?”

“Well, diamonds are a girl’s best friend. You can’t deny that a shiny rock would look superb on my hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas Eve! One more to go!


	25. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gundam Pilots celebrate Christmas together during the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heero/Trowa/Quatre. Duo/Wufei.  
> Humor, schmoop, a little angst.  
> Rated: T+.
> 
> Prompt: Family.

Wufei sniffed the cup of eggnog Duo poured for him, his mouth turning down in distaste. “Not sure what’s supposed to be so appealing about raw eggs mixed with brandy.”

Duo rolled his eyes. “Your bitching might have carried more weight if you hadn’t already drank three of these.” He shook his own cup and plopped down on a bean bag, stirring his drink with a plastic straw. Wufei could only manage a half glare, his dark eyes bloodshot. He lifted his cup to his lips and took a dainty sip.

Heero’s head lolled on the back of the couch. He was slouched between Trowa who was quietly nursing his drink and a half-lit Quatre sprawled across both of them. “I hope you two aren’t planning on arguing all night.”

“If we do, it’ll be his fault,” Duo mumbled, jerking a thumb at his lover. Wufei flipped him off in response.

“Are we really going to spend Christmas getting drunk?” Quatre asked no one in particular, staring cross-eyed at his nearly empty cup.

Duo shrugged. “Why not? We’re stuck here until we get our new assignments. Nothing better to do.” Quatre looked dubious, but didn’t argue. He tipped his drink back, finishing it off and tapped the glass for more. Trowa reached over to the side table, grabbed the pitcher, and poured the blond another.

“Careful,” Heero warned him. “You know how he gets.” The brunette nodded, abruptly pulling the pitcher back after it was only half full. 

Quatre glared at Heero, but only managed to succeed in looking like a kitten that had gotten the spray bottle treatment. “How I _get?_ How exactly do I _get?”_

Heero chose his words carefully, not wanting to upset the blond which would undoubtedly lead to the cold shoulder for the rest of the night, for him and Trowa. “You get drunk very easily, Quatre.”

“What he means, Q, is that little seventy pound pipsqueak lightweights like you can’t hold their liquor.”

“I am not seventy pounds!”

Duo shrugged, “Seventy five, whatever.”

“Duo, don’t goad him,” Trowa admonished.

Quatre leaned back against the arm of the couch and propped his socked feet on Heero’s lap. The Japanese pilot cocked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. “You don’t weigh that much more than me, you know.”

“Yeah, but I have more mush - more mush - ”

“Muscle?” 

"Yeah, that.”

Quatre sneered, “ _Who’s_ a lightweight?”

“If we’re gonna end up fighting, then I’m cutting us all off,” Trowa threatened.

Duo sighed heavily as if this was some great feat. “Alright, we’ll behave.” He stretched out on the bean bag, legs sprawled in front of him. He brushed his toes against his lover’s thigh and Wufei caught the foot, stroking his thumb over the top.

“We also don’t want to be hungover if a mission comes in.”

“Damn it, Heero. Way to be a buzzkill,” Duo groaned, tipping his head back onto the beanbag.

On the couch, Quatre shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “S’freezing in here,” he complained.

Heero, accustomed to Quatre’s apparent cold-bloodedness, reached for his blond lover. “Come here.” Quatre eagerly sat up and crawled into his boyfriend’s arms,  tucking himself under Heero’s chin and humming in contentment. Heero rested his chin on the top of his head and smiled at Trowa’s amused expression.

“Both of you come here,” the other man ordered. His hands closed around Heero’s shoulders, tipping both of his lovers into his arms. They went willingly, gooey smiles plastered across their faces as they were held tight. 

Duo made gagging noises from his spot on the floor and Quatre scoffed at him with his cheek smooshed against Heero’s chest. “Oh, please. You and Wufei aren’t much better.”

Wufei turned and looked at his lover. “I think we’re much better,” he said, to which Duo nodded in affirmation and made kissy noises at him.

"Hey, we’re all the same here. We’re just trying to find warmth and comfort where we can find it. In our case, we all found something more,” admonished Trowa as he held his lovers tight against him, both of them purring like sleepy kittens.

Wufei chewed his lip in contemplative silence for a few moments. It seemed as though he was reluctant to share his thoughts and surprised them all when he spoke up. “I really didn’t think I’d ever share another special moment with a person, let alone four of them.“ He glanced up at each of them, his eyes misty. 

"I didn’t think anything could ever be right again, but here, now…it just feels right. I’m cold and I haven’t eaten in two days. I’m hiding out in some dump waiting for orders, consuming cheap liquor and eggs that have probably passed their expiration date. I could die tomorrow. But right now…this? It’s something I never thought I’d experience again. It’s a sense of…home. Family.” He turned to Duo whose face was soft with empathy and love. He reached for his lover’s hand and kissed his knuckles.

They all understood. How could they not? In the midst of war, nothing was certain. Tomorrow was never promised. Anyone of them could be lost, taken from the others. It weighed heavily on all of them. The kind of thing that kept you up at night.

Duo, bless him, chuckled in an attempt to lighten the gravid atmosphere. “Damn, Fei,” he quipped. “I need to get you drunk more often.” Wufei shook his head and weaved their fingers together, holding on tight.

Quatre sniffled, his own cheeks wet with tears, but he was grinning with mischief. “Like I said. Not much better.”

“Okay, Winner. I concur,” Wufei said with a laugh.

"It’s true, though.” Quatre tipped his head back to look at both of his lovers. "We’re a family…Aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, love,” Trowa reassured him, tucking a blond curl behind his ear. Heero pressed a kiss to the top of his head, seconding the notion.

“And a family we’ll always be,” he murmured from within his warm cocoon, blue eyes blinking drowsily.

Duo wiped a stray tear from his cheek and cleared his throat, lifting his cup into the air. “I’ll drink to that! War sucks ass, but at least we have each other, our health, and all of our dicks work as far as I know. Cheers!”

They raised their cups in unison, toasting to peace, life, love, and family…and functioning penises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is that! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Merry Saturnalia, Blessed Be! Hope everyone has a warm, safe, and happy holiday and New Year! *hugs*


End file.
